


Thicker Than Water

by nightshiftblues



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blood Kink, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Hamburr, Jamilton - Freeform, Jealousy, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M, Vampires, my filename for this fic is 'vampire au nobody asked for', vampire!burr, vampire!jeffmads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-01-23 04:36:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12498900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightshiftblues/pseuds/nightshiftblues
Summary: Alex keeps the fridge stocked with his blood and Burr pays off his student loans. It's a simple, functional arrangement until New York’s vampire aristocracy starts to acknowledge their existence.





	1. Blood Boils Without Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I’m gonna (totally arbitrarily) post on Wednesdays, though there might be a wee break between the two halves of this fic depending on how badly uni’s kicking my ass at the time. The chapters are pretty long tho (3-6K).
> 
> This isn’t gonna be wholesome in general but I still feel like I should give warnings about little things not in the main tags just to be safe so: there will be talk of needles and drawing blood with medical equipment in this chapter, and it will feature an abusive relationship. Neither’s described in great detail.
> 
> Disclaimer: I go to uni in Scotland so I don’t have detailed first-hand knowledge about paying for college in the US.

PART I

 

Alex scowled at the dark unresponsive screen of his phone as if his disapproval would make it see reason and stop being dead. Sometime later he would find out that Burr had texted him, telling him not to come home, but at the time he was just pissed he wouldn’t be able to block out the other passengers on the subway by listening to music.

The commuting time between the apartment and campus was forty minutes on a good day, but Burr had insisted on that particular apartment because of the quiet neighborhood and the west-facing windows. Seeing that he was the one who paid most of the rent, it had seemed reasonable to Alexander to let him have his way. Not that Alexander wasn’t earning his upkeep.

Although ‘upkeep’ was a word he didn’t particularly like using when referring to their arrangement, least of all in his head.

Since his daily ‘staring out of the window lost in thought’-time had been ruined, Alexander decided to pull out a trial manuscript they had for designated reading and unleash himself upon it with a highlighter instead. It wasn’t ideal but it killed the time between transfers and soon enough he was striding up the stairs to their apartment on the fourth floor, trying to hide how out of breath he was when his paths crossed with a neighbor.

A high-pitched screech was heard from the living room as soon as the door closed behind him.

“Don’t yell at me,” Alexander hollered while flinging his sneakers and backpack across the hallway. “I know you’ve been fed already you lying whore.”

Burr’s voice also came from the living room: “Alexander, if you have to insist on keeping the cat I would at least appreciate if you refrained from calling it a prostitute.”

“You’re up early,” Alexander remarked as he stepped into the living room. He was met with three pairs of dark, inquisitive eyes. “And you have company. Should I go?”

Burr gave him a smile that was even more strained than usual. “No need, we’re just about finished here.”

Seated on the sofa across from Burr were two formally dressed men. One of them had a dark complexion and a short and broad build - or maybe he just seemed short in contrast to his companion. His cold eyes sized Alexander up from over the wine glass he was gingerly holding close to his face, one arm folded across his chest. The other one, the tall one, seemed more at ease; he was draped over the sofa cushions with his elbows over the back of the couch, feet on the coffee table (a big shot clearly, since Burr was allowing that). Both looked almost comically out of place in the small-albeit-neat apartment, and in this part of town in general.

The cat, Greg, was perched on top of the bookcase. So that’s what he’d been yelling about.

“Well I’ll be damned, Aaron Burr has finally gotten himself a human,” the tall one exclaimed and bared his teeth with the pretense of a smile.

“I thought it smelled unusually fresh in here,” said the other one.

Burr’s plastic smile turned even tenser. “I live with a human, yes,” he said carefully. “Alexander, these are old acquaintances of mine, Thomas Jefferson and James Madison.”

“Pleasure,” Alexander gave a curt nod to their general direction. He walked up to the bookcase and extended his arms out to Greg. The cat hesitated for a brief moment before leaping into Alexander’s open arms. With only three paws it was difficult for him to climb; he only did it when there were suspicious characters in the apartment. Alexander buried his nose into his soft, black fur and listened to the calming sound of purring.

The cuddling helped him ease up for a little bit, even with the imposing gazes still latching onto him. Helped him think.

It tended to be one of two things with vampires, Alex had come to observe. They were either undeniably products of their time with a shiny coat of pretense modernity slapped on, like Burr with his rigid posture, delicate turn of phrase and _sense of propriety_. Alex hadn’t yet managed to place him in an exact time period (though he had his theories), but nevertheless his gut was telling him that Burr had been ahead of his times once –those times having long since passed.

“He’s a cute one isn’t he, where’d you find him?”

And then there was the other type, the type that had the air of decadent ancient royalty to them, who still seemed completely unbothered by the inequalities and intersections of human society. This Jefferson guy was a textbook example; the kind of relaxed, jovial arrogance that came with privilege, indulgence and money older than dirt was practically seeping out of his pores. It was apparent in everything from his lounging posture to his tailor-fit suit to the way he was eyeing Alex up like he was a starter dish in one of those restaurants that didn’t even print the prices on their menus. Despite of his soft brown complexion and the mane of coiled curls falling over his shoulders in polished disarray Alex could easily, with his mind’s eye, picture him sitting under a poplar tree sipping lemonade next to a plantation somewhere up South. Maybe it was the accent.

It took Alex maybe a solid minute of interaction to take a disliking to Jefferson.

“I came from my mother’s womb,” he said, scowling. “The rest is none of your business.”

Madison exhaled through his nose in a laugh-like manner and Jefferson’s eyes narrowed just a tad.

“Has a mouth on him, too. I wonder what redeeming qualities make Burr keep you around,” he drawled and swirled the wine glass between his fingers.

“I grow on people,” Alexander spat and settled Greg against the crook of his neck, stroking his back gently.

“Like an opinionated weed,” Burr sighed and stood up to signal the end of the little get together. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid I have some things that need attending to. I do hope that I could have been of more assistance here.”

The other two men sat still for a moment as if the ending of the interaction was entirely up to them, but eventually set their glasses onto the coffee table and stood up with that graceful manner that older vampires tended to share.

“Thank you for volunteering us your time,” Madison said as he buttoned his suit jacket. “Any information at all is of help.”

Jefferson meanwhile strode around the coffee table and stood a few steps away from Alexander. He was even taller than he had seemed sitting down. Alexander tried not to feel intimidated or break eye contact. He was regarded with barely concealed amusement.

“Let me know if you ever want to put your pet into circulation,” Jefferson said. His eyes were still on Alexander but it was clear he was talking to Burr.

Burr took a side step between them, which could have been interpreted as a protective gesture, but Alexander knew he could probably tell there was a fist fight to be prevented. _He’s lucky my hands are occupied_ , he thought resentfully _._ Burr put a stern hand on Alexander’s shoulder, shot him a warning glance and turned to Jefferson.

“And you let me know if you need anything else at all. I’d be happy to drop by at Monticello so you won’t need to make the trip again,” he said with that cool smile plastered on his face.

“We might take you up on that,” said Madison, his smile matching Burr’s.

They finished exchanging pleasantries and finally took their leave. Alexander glanced out of the window; the sun hadn’t set yet. There must have been a fancy car with blacked out windows parked somewhere nearby that he’d somehow missed coming in.

Burr sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What’s the point of you pestering me to get a cellphone if you don’t read my texts?”

Alex shrugged apologetically. “Battery ran out.”

“Well, nothing to be done about it.” Burr stared at nothing in particular, clasping his hands behind his back; a tell Alexander had picked up on after ages of rigorous observation.

“What did Pinky and the Brain want?” he couldn’t contain his curiosity anymore.

“No matter.”

“Don’t you ‘no matter’ me, I have a right to know if it’s enough to make you want me out of the house!”

“You might want to brush up on your argumentative skills if you want to become a lawyer.”

“Aaron.”

Burr sighed again and reached out to pat Greg’s head. He was the only vampire the cat allowed to do that.

“Madison and Jefferson are just… people whose radar I would have preferred to keep you off of is all.”

He looked like he immediately regretted his sincerity, and for a reason; a grin was starting to spread on Alexander’s face.

“Oh right, ‘coz my blood’s the shit, right?”

Burr shook his head. “I will never understand why anyone would refer to something positive as ‘the shit’.”

“Scared you’re gonna have to defend my honor?” Alexander teased, not allowing the conversation to be derailed.

“That’s not a part of our agreement, you are of course free to do as you wish.” Burr frowned slightly. “Speaking of. Was I wrong to come in between you and Jefferson? I thought you seemed abrasive to the situation but if you wanted to go with them…”

Alexander just stared for a moment. He then set Greg down and turned to grab the glasses left on the table. Most of them were still half filled with the quality vintage (Alex was no sommelier but even he could tell Burr took his wine seriously); it sloshed around in Alexander’s ungraceful grip.

“Alexander?”

“No Burr I did not want to go and be the boy toy of the week for the guy who spoke about me like I was a piece of furniture.”

Burr set a hand on Alexander’s shoulder again and steered him to face him. “I am trying to understand why you are upset.”

Alex was half trying to understand himself and came up short. He raised the glasses and gave Burr a lopsided grin. “Didn’t bust out the house beverage for the Southerners, eh?”

The wrinkle between Burr’s eyes smoothed gradually and something akin to fondness flickered across his features, gone in a flash.

“You know I wouldn’t do that,” he said almost softly. He raised his hand from Alexander’s shoulder and ruffled his fringe briefly. “Speaking of which, we’re starting to run low on stock.”

“I’ll bust out the syringe next time you’re out,” Alex promised and ducked towards the kitchen.

“Make sure to eat afterwards,” Burr called after him.

“Yes, grandma.”

 

* * *

 

Burr headed out next evening, 8 pm, and Alex followed through with his promise. He blasted Lemonade as loud as he dared to, got the blood collection equipment from the cupboard (they ordered in a bulk from Amazon) and went through the motions.

His nursing student friend/ex-boyfriend John had been of huge help in the beginning, patiently answering a myriad of questions about how to do it safely and hygienically. Perks of being a writer type; you could ask the most dubious questions without raising too much suspicion.

Alex plopped the two newly filled blood bags into the fridge, patted the place in the bend of his arm where the needle had been with a ball of cotton and sealed it with a Hello Kitty plaster.

“ _You can watch my fat ass twist boy,”_ he belted along Beyoncé, “ _as I bounce to the next dick, boy_.”

It had been almost disappointing, in a weird way, finding out Burr wouldn’t be biting into Alexander’s wrist or neck (or inner thigh, like in his wildest definitely-not-fantasies). Hell; he didn’t even want to be in the house when Alexander was extracting the goods ( _we’re not referring to it as ‘juicing your meat’_ , Burr had said with that exasperated tone at some point). Luckily Alex wasn’t squeamish so he could get the job done by himself well enough.

Besides, it was for the best wasn’t it? The utter lack of intimacy in the setting made it feel like the quid pro quo that it was - instead of it being an incredibly old man taking advantage of a desperate immigrant orphan whose SAT scores got fucked up thanks to his legal guardian’s suicide, followed up by being tossed from foster family to foster family for the rest of his adolescence.

Besides, in all probability Alexander would have become a sugar baby ages ago, had he had the personality to pull it off. Alas, he could barely stand having someone pay for his coffee and he rarely got invited on second dates after spending the first one animatedly ranting about whatever it was that was rattling about his brain that week. He knew that he had it in him to build something concrete, something that matters, if only he could shake all the circumstances holding him back.

That’s how it all had started, really.

_“Don’t they have scholarships for people with a mind like yours?”_

_“You’re working under the assumption that America is a meritocracy.”_

_A cynical smile had slowly spread across Burr’s features. “Far from it.”_

About 500ml of blood every two months or so was a miniscule price to pay for a future. It was roughly the amount he would lose if he regularly donated to a blood drive anyways, according to John. And he didn’t even have to be good at small talk.

Alex treated himself to a grilled cheese and half a tub of Ben and Jerry’s so Burr wouldn’t get on his case about his blood sugar levels and settled into a blanket cocoon on the sofa. By 2 am he was finished with the trial manuscript and had made good progress with a report assignment and called it a day. Sleeping usually came easier even to his insomnia-ridden body on the juicing-days.

 

* * *

 

When he crawled out of his bedroom the next morning, Alex stared at the fridge blankly until it started beeping at him for letting the heat in. Something was off.

The blood bags were untouched, he registered eventually.

A light knock on Burr’s bedroom door didn’t elicit a response, and a quick guilty glance inside (Burr was rather anal about his space) confirmed it was empty. Alex frowned and checked his phone for messages. Nothing. It wasn’t like the vampire never slept someplace else, but only once before had he failed to notify Alex beforehand. Last evening he’d said he’d go see a friend and had only taken his keys.

As far as Burr’s work went, it did take him out of state sometimes, but never unexpectedly. (Whatever it was that Burr _did_ was anyone’s guess, whenever Alex pestered him about it he was only met with vague hand movements and long-winded explanations about legal and financial issues that came with being immortal but trying not to be super obvious about it. Eventually Burr had just sighed and settled on saying he was a consultant.)

Still, maybe it was nothing. Maybe this ‘friend’ had somehow magically gotten Burr to talk for several hours and by the time they were done the sun had been rising and he had stayed over.

Alex shook off the creeping feeling of dread that was starting to crawl up his windpipe and started to pack up for his lectures.

 

* * *

 

Three days and approximately 28 unanswered texts later Alex came to the conclusion that it probably wasn’t nothing.

He paced back and forth in the living room and tried to make sense of the chaos starting to sprout every which way in his brain. Rent was due by the end of next week. Maybe Burr had an automatic transfer set up, maybe he didn’t. Alexander’s eyes kept being drawn towards the coffee table, to the spot where the two half-full wine glasses had been.

There was no way of knowing whether the tense visit of the two Southerners that Burr had wanted Alexander not to come into contact with was in any way related to his subsequent disappearance. _Post hoc ergo propter hoc_. God, law school had turned him into a pretentious asshole.

Still, what other leads did he have?

Alex opened the blinds to confirm that the sun was high up in the sky as if just looking at the time wasn’t confirmation enough, and dialed a number. It rang four times and he was ready to hang up and try again later when the call was connected with a soft click.

“Alex?”

“Hey Maria, is this a good time?” A covert way of asking if she was alone.

“Yeah, sure. Just hold on a sec.” Maria’s voice was soft, nearly a whisper. A door was closed carefully in the other end of the line and Alex could hear the sound of a faucet being turned on. He curled and uncurled his fingers restlessly. The issue was off the table, he reminded himself. He had begged Burr to help her, maybe a year and a half ago, and Burr had gently but firmly insisted that even if he could get her out, the deeply personal decision of leaving could not be done for her.

“What do you need, my guy?” Maria asked. Alex inhaled deeply.

“Have you seen Burr around? Or heard anything?”

“Nope, sorry. But I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Thought as much.”

“Is something wrong? Actually that was a stupid question, wasn’t it? Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Alex kept his tone gentle and reassuring. “Just one other thing. Do you know Thomas Jefferson and James Madison? Or, do you know _of_ them?”

There was a pause and for a moment Alex feared Reynolds may have woken up.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Alex?”

“Maria please, it’s important.”

Maria sighed. “I’ve been to their club, Monticello. James used to like going there at one point,” she said hesitantly.

Alex plopped into a chair and immediately started to bounce his leg. His attempts to Google the place that Burr had briefly mentioned to Jefferson three days ago had come up short. Hardly surprising; vampires tended to favor discretion and exclusivity.

“Where is it?” Alex asked excitedly. Maria sighed again.

“I’ll text you an address and how to get in if you promise not to do anything stupid. Burr would be lost without you.”

Alex gave a dry laugh at that one. “You know me, caution is my middle name.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Thanks ‘Ria. I’ll bring you poptarts next time we can get together, alright?”

Maria’s signature half-smile was practically audible in her voice: “I would like that.”

There was a muffled sound in the distance and the call was cut abruptly. Alex knew better than to call back.

Maria’s text arrived in five minutes which assured Alex he hadn’t gotten her into trouble. This Monticello place was in SoHo ( _of course it would be_ , Alexander rolled his eyes), about half an hour on bus from Harlem. Alex killed the time before sunset by showering and picking out an outfit. It wasn't like he was particularly stoked to dress up for Madison and Jefferson, but he would have to get past the bouncer somehow. He decided to think of it as battle armor.

His battle armor included his tidiest black t-shirt and ripped jeans that made his ass look delicious ( _why would anyone want to buy broken jeans?_ he could practically hear Burr saying in his head) with fishnet stockings underneath. He brushed through his hair, opting to leave it down and, after some thorough deliberation, also grabbed a clear latex choker with a heart-shaped loop in the middle. Vampires tended to like that sort of thing, the neck being covered and on display at the same time.

Whether it was a strategic move or a massively bad idea to show up to the club dressed like bait, well. He would find out before too long.

“God this is a stupid move,” he muttered to his reflection as he fiddled his contact lenses in. If Jefferson and Madison were behind Burr’s disappearance he should be packing his shit and skipping town, not walking straight into their jaws (both figuratively _and_ literally, as it were).

But then he thought about how three years ago he was selling his used underwear to perverts online in order to build up a savings account that just might pay for textbooks in a year’s time. Whether he liked to think about it or not, thanks to Burr he had a shot.

He watered the plants, left Greg enough food to last him for a day or two and headed out.


	2. If You Put a Razor in Your Mouth, You Will Spit Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex “Practical Tactical Brilliance" Hamilton shows off his mad problem solving skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of this chapter is (apparently) a Nigerian proverb. I love it.

Alex had pictured an abandoned warehouse or maybe the veneer of a closed liquor store tucked away into a back alley somewhere, but in retrospect that obviously wasn’t how one does inconspicuous in SoHo. Besides, having a bunch of people constantly coming and going in fancy cars with chauffeurs would have made it pretty obvious that something was up.

Instead Alex found himself awkwardly shifting from one foot to another in a fancy lobby of a hotel chain he’d never heard of; Aide-de-Champ. Still it didn't take a genius to deduce that their cheapest room probably cost a month’s rent in his and Burr’s apartment.

According to Maria’s text he was supposed to go to the front desk and ask for the ‘Virginia suite’, which should get him a keycard, which would then allow him to access the top floor with the elevator. And voila, he’d be in Monticello. The vampires must have been really good for business if the hotel had given up their penthouse suites for their little club. Well, presuming they didn’t own the whole chain.

Alex made his way across the white marble floor and tried not to look as uncomfortable and out of place as he felt.

“Virginia suite, please,” he said to the receptionist.

They had a little staring contest as the woman tried to figure out what business an unaccompanied human with no visible bite marks had in Monticello. Alex scrunched up his nose and started to dig out his phone.

“Look, I can always call my partner down to get me, but he won’t be happy about it.”

Blackmail did the trick; the only thing worse than an unsatisfied customer was an unsatisfied undead customer. The receptionist slid a purple plastic card across the counter. “Enjoy your night, sir,” she said and even threw in a smile, which Alex returned.

“You too.” He hated being a dick to service personnel (they had to display more self-control in a day than what Alex could muster in a week), but desperate times and all that.

He waited until he could get an elevator just for himself, pressed the top-floor button, scanned the card and up he went. Instead of the thoughts running in anxious circles in his head he focused on fluffing up his hair with the mirror and noted that he was somewhat pale. Well, that would hardly make him stand out where he was about to go.

The bouncer at least let him in with a quick flash of ID (the receptionist must have been the main gatekeeper, then). The décor was just on the uncomfortable side of posh what with the sleek, minimalist furniture and purple, neon-lit bar counters. The only trace of an old-fashioned taste in extravagance was the gigantic crystal chandelier hanging imposingly over the lounging area. There were a few pole dancers doing a routine towards the back, but they seemed to be more like decoration, rather than the main attraction. As he had hoped, at around 11 pm there were enough people to make a minor crowd but one that was fairly easy to keep track of.

Alex got a martini for appearance’s sake and tried not to calculate how many packs of mozzarella sticks he could have bought with the money. _Next round’s on Burr as soon as I find him_ , he decided. _Not here though._

If he were Burr he would spend the first night just observing, Alex decided. And seeing that Burr would definitely have a plan more intricate than ‘get in and snoop around until something stands out’, following his train of thought seemed like a good idea. Not that Alex would be admitting _that_ to him, ever. He slipped into a small booth with a good overall view of the premises and nursed his drink there.

Of course the factor Alex had not accounted for was that he _wasn’t_ Burr; he wasn’t someone who could just make himself scentless and tasteless at will, blend into any background, slide into any puzzle gracefully like he was made to be there to begin with. Nobody was looking at him outright but he still soon started to feel like the last piece of pie that everyone had their sights on but didn’t want to grab out of politeness. Maybe they were waiting to see if the hosts of the party would want it.

“Well that didn’t take long,” said a voice behind Alexander. A bit of his martini sloshed onto the table as he jerked in startlement and twisted to look at Madison who had materialized right behind his booth, a hand on the backrest. He looked down at Alexander with an unreadable expression.

“Really, if you were that eager you could have just said so, no need to play coy.” The corners of his mouth slightly tilted upwards. Alexander had initially found it difficult to read or categorize Madison, but clearly his arrogance had just been overshadowed next to the blinding force of douchebaggery that was Jefferson. The Southerners presented in different ways but were clearly cut from the same cloth.

“Do I strike you for a _coy_ person?” Alexander asked, playing for time to compose himself.

Madison only raised an eyebrow. This was a staring competition Alexander knew he would lose.

“I came to talk,” he said.

Madison’s eyes pore into him for a silent moment that felt a lot longer than it probably was. “Of course.”

He turned to walk towards a staircase and Alexander gathered he was to follow. He downed his martini and fumbled to get up, resenting how he had to do an undignified job to catch up with the vampire.

A mountain of a man in a black suit wordlessly allowed them into the staircase, which took them to a balcony of sorts. It had a good, domineering view of the bar and the dancefloor.

And there was Jefferson, holding court while sprawled on a throne-like armchair with his legs propped onto a coffee table, again. It was like the man refused to arrange his long frame into any space normally assigned to a person and took it upon himself to claim exactly the amount of surface that suited him. It rubbed the New Yorker in Alexander the wrong way to even look at the shameless display; he had spent his entire life squeezing into shared mattresses and crowded subway cars after all. Jefferson had an audience of course; some vampires, some humans (most of them sitting on someone’s lap or at their feet), all intently leaning in and hanging onto his every word.

“…which of course is to be expected from an upstanding citizen such as-,” he paused to smirk at the scattered laughter arising from the crowd and his eyes landed on the approaching pair.

“Why, looks like James made a friend on his trip to the bar, how unusual,” he drawled. Alexander resisted the urge to stand behind Madison’s shoulder or adjust his clothes under the blatantly evaluating stares. He felt his chin rise a few inches and his shoulders squared in a way he hoped was coming off as confident rather than defensive.

So much for silently observing and keeping his cards close to his chest.

“We met a few days ago,” he said. He’d learned by now to fight being talked about like he was a pet rabbit early on. “I live with Burr?”

Jefferson slapped his knee as though it only just occurred to him who Alex was. “Oh that’s right, the mouthy one!”

“He’s here to talk,” Madison said. The crowd responded like he’d just cracked a joke. Maybe he had, it was difficult to tell with Madison. Alexander inhaled deeply. Too early to fly off the handle.

Jefferson’s teeth were ridiculously white and Alex was standing too far away to tell whether his fangs were exposed or not but surely they had to be; there was no comprehensible reason he would go around constantly grinning like that, other than displaying them as a sign of dominance. “Oh is he now?” he purred and tilted the crystal glass in his hand sideways delicately.

Alex tried to swallow but his mouth kept drying up. He glanced at the crowd that was following the evidently endlessly amusing exchange and came to the conclusion that asking for a _private conversation_ wouldn’t do him any favors.

“Burr’s gone,” he said, cutting to the chase. There was a tinge of accusation in his tone. Thankfully he managed to keep up steady eye contact with Jefferson, despite of his awareness of just how thin ice he was treading on. Not that it did him much good; the vampire’s face was unreadable save for an inquisitive lift of an eyebrow. From the periphery of his vision Alexander could tell Madison turned to glance at his face.

“Gone?” Jefferson echoed.

“Since the day you paid us a visit.”

“You were right about the mouth,” said someone in the crowd.

“Oh I have no doubt Alexander is just getting started,” said Jefferson. He pulled his feet off the table, leaned his elbows against his knees and regarded Alexander in a way that made him think of a snake coiled on a branch. “But we mustn’t be too harsh about his lack of tact. The poor thing’s owner has abandoned him, after all.”

“He didn’t leave,” Alexander found himself jumping to Burr’s defense (or his own, perhaps?) without even dignifying the owner-thing with a rebuttal.

“And how do you know that?” said Madison with his perfectly opaque expression and tone that still made defensiveness rise in Alexander’s chest like a tidal wave.

“Because he didn’t,” he said, aware of exactly how petulant he sounded. “He has no reason to,” he rushed to explain despite of himself, “he’s not… he wouldn’t do that.” Alex just so managed to stop himself from spilling a detailed explanation of how Burr hadn’t packed anything important or fed for a while, realized he was playing right into their trap by giving away details he didn’t need to, all rash judgement and fluster _. Talk less_ , he could hear Burr’s voice as clear as if he was standing right by his shoulder instead of Madison.

“He doesn’t do things by halves. He follows through,” Alexander said instead, switching tactics on a whim, locking eyes with Jefferson again.

Alex had never been an expert judge of character, but in that moment he was rather sure he saw Jefferson pick up on a challenge in his statement.

The vampire stood up slowly and started to make his way to Alex with a leisurely pace.

“Doesn’t do things by halves, except when it comes to the most natural thing imaginable,” he said and his eyes slid over Alexander’s frame, who suddenly wished he had at least worn a dress shirt.

Jefferson stopped to stand a bit too close for comfort. “He doesn’t even ‘follow through’ with biting you, does he?”

“He’s completely unmarked,” said someone with a puzzled, slightly dreamy tone.

“You don’t know that,” Alexander said, defensive again. His cheeks were heating up. _Way to make everyone in the room think about the juicy artery in your groin, dumbass._

“And this is just an accidental cut, I assume,” said Madison and caught Alexander by surprise by grabbing his wrist and pulling his arm out until the Hello Kitty plaster was displayed. The vampire allowed Alexander to twist out of the icy, unyielding grip after he’d wriggled for a few humiliating seconds and Alex rubbed at his wrist, shooting him a dirty look. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

“I’m just here to see if you know anything,” Alex said, wanting to break the tension that was settling over the scene.

“Are you?” said Jefferson, all tall posture and flashing teeth and eyes. “Or did you come to find someone to take care of you until daddy comes back?”

Alex wanted to tell him about that time he’d hooked up with a girl and she had cried out ‘give it to me, daddy’ in the middle of sex and he’d instantly gone limb and gotten up and left because his undeniable daddy issues most definitely did _not_ manifest in that way. He wanted to say a number of things, but instead he stared up at Jefferson his body rigid with tension as the man lightly ran his thumb up his neck, over the heart-loop of his collar, and then his Adam’s apple. Goosebumps, he registered, were starting to raise on his skin.

“Or, perhaps, it’s not even about your upkeep, and really you just want someone to show you what it really means to serve our kind,” he said.

Oh, Alex knew what it meant alright. Had seen it all over Maria’s skin whenever Reynolds allowed her to leave the house, no matter how much she covered up. That was the thought that shook Alex out of the inexplicable drunk-like feeling he was falling into, and made him take a bold step forward, narrowing down the space between his and Jefferson’s chests even further. He had to bend his head back to look the other man in the eyes now.

“Do you or do you not know anything about where Burr is?” he pressed, his voice thankfully even.

Jefferson’s dark eyes held Alexander’s gaze for a moment that perhaps only felt so long because he couldn’t really blink or breathe properly.

“I think,” Jefferson said with a quiet voice that still easily carried over the rhythm of the music and the bustling of the crowd downstairs, “the relevant question here is what it is that you can do in return for my assistance.”

Alexander thought of Aaron’s cool hand on his forehead on the day before he went missing, firm and grounding. It hadn’t even been a week and he was already spinning off-axis, into the abyss, completely helpless to stop it.

“I’ll ask nicely,” he responded finally. And then he added, with a mockingly high-pitched tone: “Please sirs, I’ve nowhere else to turn!”

It may have been a trick of the light but it seemed like the corner of Madison’s lip curled upwards. Jefferson meanwhile almost blinded Alexander with his grin. He was close enough to get a good look at his pearly, almost delicate-looking fangs now. They were proudly displayed, just as he’d thought.

“Well well, in that case we should continue this talk in the office. James?”

The spectacle for the audience would thankfully be over, with the tradeoff of entering an enclosed place with two powerful, malicious beings in a venue where nobody would hear his screams, or side with him if they did. Not that weighing the pros and cons of the situation was really up to Alexander since the vampires had already started towards a staff-marked door away from the balcony and the dancefloor. The crowd response was a mixture of cheers, disappointed moans and suggestions Alexander would have taken offense to had he not been too busy scurrying after the Southerners.

“The office” was more of a private lounge with a well-stocked bar, a considerable amount of comfortable-looking divans and, almost like an afterthought, a desk and some filing cabinets towards the back of the room.  Alexander sat himself down on a sofa across from Jefferson, and Madison tossed a stack of papers onto the coffee table in front of him after rummaging through the cabinets for a moment.

Alexander shot them an amused look as he picked it up. “You just, uh, have these in handy?”

_Mr. Gray will see you now._ He’d never seen 50 Shades but he was pretty sure this scene was in it.

This was no BDSM contract, though. This wasn’t Alexander’s first walk in the park –mixed metaphors, that sometimes happened when his mind kicked into gear- he’d seen a BDSM contract or two in his days. He skimmed through the document with the trained diligence of an overachieving law student. The imposing gazes of the vampires had probably put many a person on edge enough to sign without really reading, but Alexander refused to be hurried along. He noted that there were no specifics about boundaries; all it really boiled down to was ‘you’re under confidentiality and we won’t kill you’. Very promising.

“I want paragraph 3.8 to reflect that I am not to sustain any permanent injury or-,” he skimmed through his head for a legal jargon-term for scars, “bodily disfiguration.”

Jefferson looked at Alex like he was a five-year-old who just used the word “hence” in a sentence. “You know what you’re doing,” he said with raised eyebrows. Alex just rolled his eyes. “Very well then, the changes will be made promptly.” The sweetness of Jefferson’s voice put Alex even more on edge.

Alexander handed the document back. “I’m still unclear as to what it is that you’re asking me to agree to here,” he noted.

He would have thought of Madison’s smile as coy had he not known better. Jefferson meanwhile looked like a cat who was about to get the cream. “Oh, just a little quid pro quo,” he said.

Alex thought of the dancers he’d seen earlier. “I don’t think I have the sufficient upper body strength to pole dance but I do make a mean Manhattan.”

“What was your and Burr’s arrangement, exactly?” Madison asked as he made handwritten amendments to the contract with a pen he had produced from his breast pocket.

Alexander shrugged. “I keep the blood flowing and Burr pays for my college.” Something in Jefferson’s smile put him on the defensive again. “It’s an equal, mutually beneficial partnership.”

“And that’s why he calls you Alexander and you call him Burr?” said Madison without taking his eyes off the paper.

Alexander tried to mentally beat down his fluster. Burr had immediately taken to calling him by his first name, an anomaly in his usual stiff formality. It rolled off his tongue so naturally Alex had never really questioned it. Madison was _good_ , to a degree where Alexander felt a twist of real dread at the pit of his stomach.

Or was it excitement? He had always been bad at telling the difference.

“I find it funny, it rhymes with ‘sir’,” he muttered. That earned him a raise of an eyebrow.

“Well I’m sure we can find a good way to utilize your skill set, darling,” Jefferson drawled as Madison handed the contract back to Alexander. The edited version made him feel less vulnerable, to a degree. The pet name did not.

“You can always walk out at any point if you start to feel like what we’re asking for is not worth finding out about Burr,” Madison said, smiling innocuously. A tactful way of highlighting how limited his options were.

Alexander weighed his options and kept his eyes on the neat type of the contract instead of the two vampires, mostly to keep himself from chickening out. He felt the weight of his phone in his pocket, quiet and unmoving. Whatever it was that he was getting into, it couldn’t be worse than going back to the apartment with no leads, back to being helpless. Except he had a creeping suspicion the vampires would find a way to make him feel just that.

_I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it,_ he thought as he reached for the pen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I’m sure this chapter was simply riveting if you’re into contract negotiations. This is going exactly where you think it’s going so look forward to filth next week \0/  
> Burr calling Hamilton mostly Alexander while Hamilton keeps stubbornly greeting him with “Mister Burr, sir” is actually one of my favourite details in the musical.


	3. Blood Is the Sweat of Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamilton asks nicely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright lads let’s do this. Heed the tags; the dubcon one mostly comes from the coercive nature of the situation and also Alexander’s relationship with sex isn’t the healthiest. Also bear in mind this won’t exactly be an exercise in proper BDSM etiquette as Jeffs and Mads are too old to care about all these new age concepts like safewords and aftercare. There’s also a mention of barebacking.
> 
> If you’re just here for hamburr you could actually skip this chapter and just infer what happened in the subsequent ones, if you wanna.
> 
> But most importantly HOLY SHIT THERE’S [FANART](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BxnjdC0X-Bvvd3IzSm1OaTJMaVlCU19FakdLZTEwdnRyRlVn/view?usp=sharing) by Jaden Daut and it's amazing. Could stare at it for hours. Probably have.

They made Alexander wait in the office for three hours, saying they had ‘business to attend to’. His phone died after two.

The rest of the wait was spent aimlessly wandering around the room where he stuck out like a sore throat. He supposed this was as good a time as any to make up his mind about how far he was willing to go; it became rather clear from the subtext of the conversation (and the totally-not-BDSM-related contract) that they wouldn’t have Alexander bartend for a week and call it even.

The truth of the matter was that at the end of the day there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do. Alexander Hamilton had never been a quitter and he wasn’t planning to start now. He could give blood (as long as he had enough left in him to keep going he didn’t need the extra stuff anyways), and as for the extremely unsubtle way Jefferson eyed him up… Well, sex was nothing. It was on par with folding laundry to Alexander (if folding laundry came with the extra perk of orgasms) - as long as he managed to keep it separate from his pride. He wasn’t thrilled with the prospect if only because Jefferson had acted so self-assured only to be proven right, but truth be told he’d slutted himself out to worse people. Probably.

The more Alex thought about it, the more convinced he became that whatever they wanted from him could only be considered a loss if he parsed it that way. Nothing they could possibly want had that much value to Alexander to begin with (though that he should probably keep to himself). He was in control.

With his mind made up, Alex tried observing the few pieces of abstract, minimalist art hung on the walls. It wasn’t a good enough distraction.

Perhaps that was intentional? Alex wasn’t buying that someone as old as these two would derive genuine enjoyment out of looking at nonrepresentational black and white blotches on canvas; perhaps the room was stripped down to make the occupant deprived of visual and mental stimuli, desperate for any distraction from the deafening loudness of their own thoughts?

Alexander turned his back on the paintings and wandered to the window instead - it covered the entirety of the wall. He was greeted with a beautiful view of the flickering skyline of New York City after midnight. It would be breathtaking at dawn, no doubt. Alexander wondered absently if he would still be here waiting in this room come sunrise.

“Not a fan of postmodern art?” Jefferson breathed against the back of his neck and laughed when Alex jumped. Thanks to the lighting of the room Alex could easily see Jefferson’s silhouette reflected on the glass, towering over him imposingly, and Madison further back, leaning on the hand rest of a sofa. Had he been too deep in thought to see them coming or had they really materialized out of thin air, like some iterations of Dracula that could turn into mist? Burr sometimes snuck up on Alexander like that as well, but everything about the man’s movements was soft and silent so he’d never thought of it as something potentially paranormal.

(Despite of the long time to mull it over Alexander had yet to make up his mind about whether thinking about Burr would help him through the following ordeal, or make it that much worse.)

“Minimalism is the pretense of simplicity and frugality commodified and sold to rich assholes who like the idea of letting go of material goods without actually having to live with only the bare necessities,” he said as though his heart wasn’t trying to burst out of his chest. “So not particularly, no.”

“I think I’m starting to see why you and Burr get along,” Jefferson said and started to gather Alexander’s hair into his fist. His shoulders tensed up, mostly because of the unexpected gentleness of the touch; Jefferson’s long, cool fingers threaded through his locks with attentive care, combing through tangles. Eventually he realized his hair was being tied into a ponytail.

“Although I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that you’re not bad to look at,” he said as the hair elastic snapped into place.

Once again Alexander felt a compulsive need to somehow breach the tension that was settling over the moment. “Gee thanks, I do my best,” he said and rolled his eyes at Jefferson’s reflection.

Madison straightened up and started to approach slowly. “That attitude won’t get you what you came here for, Alexander,” he said. Jefferson was twirling the end of his ponytail between his fingers, the other hand resting on Alexander’s shoulder. He was slowly starting to feel claustrophobic, trapped between the window and the taller man. If they ganged up on him at the same time...

“Speaking of which, Burr-” he started but was cut off by Jefferson’s tutting.

“Oh no, none of that. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

The dread (excitement?) that had been slowly overtaking Alexander’s senses was undercut by irritation at being talked down to like he was an overly eager puppy - like he was _stupid_. He made a move to spin around, but a hand gripped the base of his neck and he was slammed against the window. It wasn’t hard enough to cause any real damage but the sudden sensation of a cold surface against his cheek and chest made Alex freeze in place. Once the shock subsided he registered that Jefferson was still gingerly holding onto his ponytail and shoulder - the hand on the back of his neck must have been Madison’s, then. The man seemed to have a habit of sneaking up to his prey while it was distracted by Jefferson only to strike with lethal precision. And he’d thought Jefferson was the snake.

As soon as the word ‘prey’ crossed Alexander’s mind something at his core tightened. His hands were flat against the window, useless, and he knew by now that struggling would only serve to amuse them so he forced himself to stay still.

Jefferson chuckled. “At least he’s a quick learner.”

“Are you gonna behave now?” Madison asked.

Alex could tell that they had come to a threshold of sorts; if he’d had any chance of backing down after he stepped into the building, it would be gone after crossing this line. He should leave, really, before he’d get swallowed by this tension that was raising goosebumps on his skin and making his breathing come out quick and shallow.

Leave and say goodbye to any chance of finding Burr, goodbye to college, and then he’d really be the money grubbing, worthless piece of trash trapped in the gutter that these damn Southerners could make him feel like with a look, with a lift of an eyebrow.

No, he needed to find Burr even if it meant giving up his short-term dignity in the process.

“Yes,” he breathed.

“Sirs,” Madison said.

“Yes, sirs.”

Jefferson placed his nose against the pulse point behind Alexander’s ear, breathed in deeply and made a pleased, guttural noise. “Good boy.”

He was yanked back and walked towards the sofa, Madison’s hand still on his neck and Jefferson’s on his shoulder. The feeling of claustrophobia remained.

Except then they released him in unison (like they did everything, every move executed with perfect unspoken synchrony, as though they had done all this a million times before) and sat down, side by side. Alex was left standing awkwardly a few steps away from the sofa. He scratched at an imaginary itch at the back of his neck, partly to get rid of the ghost of the domineering touch that still lingered there.

“I, uh...”

Madison crossed his legs while Jefferson propped his elbows onto the backrest.

“Come here,” he drawled.

There was no space left on the sofa, which Alex was about to point out but then Jefferson’s knees inched just slightly further apart, and he understood.

Heat rushed to his cheeks. Did they not realize it would have been less humiliating to just be manhandled into the position they wanted him in, instead of being made to crawl onto Jefferson’s lap like the kept humans on the balcony?

Of course they did.

Alex gritted his teeth, reminded himself that he had already made up his mind about his _short-term dignity_ and straddled Jefferson’s lap with stiff, reluctant movements. No amount of compensation would get him to sit with his back to Jefferson, as infuriating as it was to witness that smug smile up close. At least he wouldn’t have to look up at the pompous asshole now. He leaned his torso as far away from the vampire as he could without falling off.

“Why Alexander, you seem almost uncomfortable,” Jefferson taunted, still deliberately leaning back but eyeing Alexander’s frame up and down as though we was appreciating a beautifully plated meal before digging in. And truth be told Alex was starting to wish that they would just devour him whole already so that he could finally be done with this torturous anticipation, the feeling of being circled before the inevitable.

“So are you gonna suck my blood before I graduate or am I gonna have to go find someone who will?” he snapped.

“I don’t know Alexander,” said Madison. “We might if you just asked nicely, which you seem incapable of despite of your earlier proclamation.” There was that innocuous smile again. Alex would be surprised if he still had teeth by the end of the night considering how much he was grinding them together.

“Please drink my blood,” he managed, and added: “sirs.”

“Where?” Jefferson asked. He looped a finger into the collar Alex had forgotten he was wearing and yanked him within inches of his face. Alex scrambled to get ahold of the backrest of the sofa. “Here?” Jefferson breathed against his Adam’s apple.

The thing was that Alex had always had an inconveniently sensitive neck; he cut the necklines of his pajama shirts wider because he couldn’t fall asleep if the collar was lying against his neck, and he automatically threw a punch if some unlucky soul attempted to tickle him there. So when Jefferson’s heavy, warm breath on the sensitive skin was followed by a slow, deliberate graze of teeth that didn’t quite puncture skin but made him keenly aware of the sharp points of his fangs, and then Jefferson’s hot tongue slowly swirling against the same spot… Well. Alexander could do nothing to hide the embarrassing hitch in his breath, or the sudden heaving of his chest. He gripped at the backrest with white knuckles and squeezed his eyes shut.

The reaction elicited a chuckle and the vibration against his neck did nothing to help Alexander wind down.

“Or here?” Jefferson breathed and his hands were on Alexander’s inner thighs now, his thumbs rubbing circles into the stiff jean fabric and _dear God_ he had gotten half hard at some point. Before Alex could even consider pulling back Jefferson’s mouth was on his neck again, kissing and sucking with skill that only his (very few and far between) more long term sexual partners had honed after months of practice at perfecting that right combination of pressure, suction and tongue that made Alexander’s head swim. Jefferson’s long fingers were still massaging into the flesh of his inner thighs and he made a low, hungry sound when Alex instinctively tilted his head back to give him better access.

“Alexander, you were asked a question,” Madison chided. His hands were delicately crossed on his lap and he eyed Alexander with mild amusement.

Alex leaned his palms against Jefferson’s knees and fixed his stare onto the stupid black and white blob-painting on the wall. His chest fell and rose in heavy, stuttering movements. “Anywhere. I don’t care,” he said, his voice tight and hoarse.

“ _Nicely,_ Alexander,” Madison reminded.

“Please, sirs.” Alexander loathed how much easier it came out this time around.

“James, would you do the honors?” Jefferson said and gripped the base of Alexander’s ponytail, angling his head downwards with a single assertive jerk. “And keep your eyes on me, Alexander.”

Alex did, and damn if it didn’t take more than some blood flowing south to make him think of the fullness of Jefferson’s lips, the elegant arch of his cupid’s bow and his cruelly glinting dark brown eyes as _attractive._ Well, maybe, objectively, he had acknowledged that on some level from the beginning. Maybe in a different life in which Jefferson wasn't an arrogant, condescending, tall-

The train of thought was cut short when Madison grabbed Alexander’s wrist and raised it to his mouth. He tried to keep his excitement and fear off his face under the weight of Jefferson’s gaze, but it definitely pushed through when Madison unexpectedly bit into his pointer finger instead of the wrist.

Alexander gasped despite of himself. It was quick, efficient and neat but it _stung,_ the way getting a paper cut hurt way more than it had any right to just because of the unexpectedness of it. Madison’s tongue pressed against the cut lightly and Alex could see him freeze from the periphery of his vision.

“Huh,” Madison said. Alex turned to meet his pitch black, undecipherable gaze.

He was reminded of the first time Burr had tasted his blood, just then. He had looked at Alexander with a dark, unreadable expression and then promptly left the flat without saying a word, only to return the next night as though nothing had happened. After that incident Alex had never been in the same room when Burr fed, and Burr had gotten very strict about making sure he wouldn’t be around when Alex was stocking the fridge.

Jefferson turned to look at his colleague as well. “Well?”

Madison wordlessly nudged Alexander’s hand towards Jefferson, who dipped out his tongue and licked up the fresh droplet welling up on the cut.

His pupils dilated. Alex swallowed nervously. His sense of self-preservation decided to take that moment to make a rare appearance.

Jefferson’s fingers were weaving through Alexander’s ponytail again. “My God.”

“You know I’m- I’m quite happy to bag some of my blood and be on my way-” he trailed off as Jefferson looped a finger into the knot of his silky magenta tie, and pulled until it came apart.

“It’s a good thing we both wore ties today,” he drawled. Jefferson’s usual mask of indifferent superiority was starting to crack. Alexander felt a stab of something in his lower belly.

Madison took his cue and started to undo his tie as well, casual. “Something in mind?”

Jefferson smiled at Alex. “If you’re going to run now’s the time.”

It had been awhile since Alex had last felt like throwing himself headfirst into a mistake; that used to happen a lot back when he had nothing of value to look forward to in his future, in back alleys and seedy bathrooms of strangers.

This time he was the one to bare his teeth with a grin.

And then they were on him, once again in perfect co-ordination, impossible to keep track of. Jefferson tied his wrists together in front of him and the hungry all-consuming blackness of his pupils was irreversibly burnt into Alexander’s memory; it was the last thing he saw before Madison’s tie covered his eyes and he was left in the dark.

He yelped as he was hoisted up with ease, one of Jefferson’s arms wrapped around his waist and the other under his ass. He felt vibrations of laughter against his chest as he instinctively held onto the vampire’s shoulders to his best capacity. In a few strides they’d reached the center of the room (as far as he could tell). Alexander’s tied up hands were yanked upwards and for a terrifying moment he was just dangling suspended in the air, and _God_ Jefferson was so strong, he’d never imagined that lazy posture capable of moving him around like he was a toddler.

The bond around his hands was hooked onto something (would he not have noticed if there’d been a butcher shop-style hook hanging from the ceiling? Alex thought wildly) and he was left with his arms pulled up above his head, the fabric of the tie digging into his wrists, his toes and the soles of his feet just so touching the floor. His breathing sped up to frantic levels due to the feeling of being stretched out like this, dangling from the ceiling like bait.

“Does it need adjusting?” asked Madison from somewhere across the room.

“No, this is perfect,” Jefferson replied, maybe a few feet away.

More out of curiosity than genuine need to escape his predicament, Alex pressed his toes against the floor as hard as he could and tried to spring upwards, but didn’t even come close to unmounting the hook; what he got for his troubles was increased pain in his wrists as he slumped back down. He swallowed down a gasp and bit down to his lip. _So that’s how it’s going to be._

Something cold and hard pressed lightly between his collar bones.

“I believe,” Jefferson said, “staying still is more in your interest than any of that, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your-" Alex started to protest but clamped his mouth shut as the blade pressed slightly against his moving chest. It started to move downwards, ripping through his t-shirt with relative ease. Alex was silently grateful he’d left his trusty jean jacket at the door - it was one of his most treasured Goodwill finds.

All thoughts of secondhand clothing fled Alexander’s mind when the knife did away with his shirt and his jeans and his shoes were yanked off soon after. Jefferson ran a palm up Alexander’s thigh, his thumb tracing the fishnet stockings, and made an amused little sound.

“These millenial fashions,” he said absent-mindedly.

“I think it’s rather appropriate,” said Madison now somewhere behind Alexander. “Just a while ago only whores would wear those things.”

Jefferson ridded Alexander of the stockings and his boxers as well. For a moment no one was physically touching him, but he could still feel those gazes on his exposed skin, heavy and intimate. It somehow made him feel dirtier and more soiled than anything that had occurred thus far. Alex had known of course, from the start, that he would probably end up giving away more than his blood ( _in control_ , he reminded himself). He could see the writing in the pudding. What he hadn’t expected was them knowing exactly what buttons to press to keep him on that perfect threshold between humiliation and desire. Was he really that easy to read?

There was no point trying to deny or ignore his arousal at this point. Not that they would let him if he tried.

“Look at you,” Jefferson sighed, now just a step away. His finger wandered down Alexander’s chest, down to his navel and over a hip bone, deliberately stopping near his hardening cock. “Panting and flushed, so eager to debase yourself. Burr has been missing out.”

Alex bit the inside of his cheek. “Once again, you don’t know that.”

“I don’t think you realize what an open book you are, Alexander,” Madison said. They were both standing a step away from him now, Madison at the back and Jefferson at the front. “It’s rather obvious Burr has never touched you, or even indicated that he wants to.”

“But you’ve wanted it _so badly_ , all this time,” Jefferson purred and lightly ran his knuckles up Alexander’s abdomen. He couldn’t help but shiver. “We’re the ones doing you a kindness here, really.”

“Which is why you’re going to be good and take whatever we feel like giving you, and be thankful for it,” said Madison, still not touching Alexander. “That is, if you can,” he chuckled.

Alexander’s head was a mess and thinking about whether the Southerners were right in their analysis of the peculiar dynamic of his and Burr’s relationship was the last thing he wanted to do now, or ever. Since he was physically restrained the only leverage he had for moving the situation along was his mouth, but it’s not like that was an issue. “There’s nothing between the two of you that I cannot _take,_ ” he spat.

Jefferson was laughing again, as always. He grabbed Alexander’s waist firmly and pressed his nose into the dip between his collar bones. Madison unclipped the choker Alex had forgotten he’d been wearing (it dropped to the floor with a loud clank), grabbed Alexander’s ponytail and yanked his head back.

All Alex could do was bend under their hands, reveling in the near-euphoric rush of finally being _touched_ properly after all the teasing. Jefferson licked up his neck with the flat of his tongue and Alexander inhaled shakily.

“What do we say?”’ Jefferson muttered against his neck, his voice unusually deep.

“Please,” Alexander gasped.

And wasn’t it a victory of sorts, finally getting them to snap? All thoughts fled Alexander’s mind as Jefferson’s fangs sank into his neck. There was stinging pain, as expected, but soon it was overshadowed by the sensation of Jefferson’s lips and tongue moving hungrily against his skin and _God_ it was so _intimate_ and close and more personal than any sex act he had performed before. Jefferson could be as cold and condescending as he wanted to - in that moment Alexander was _wanted_ , he reveled in the low guttural sounds the vampire made as he drank Alexander’s blood with abandon. His hands on Alexander’s waist were squeezing hard enough that he wouldn’t be surprised to find bruises there the next day,

The first coherent thought that made it into Alexander consciousness over the _yesmoreyes_ was that the bite mark would be right in the middle of his neck, the mark of Jefferson’s desire would be impossible to cover without a scarf or a really snug turtleneck.

He realized he was gasping loudly, the high-pitched and disgustingly needy sounds filling the room.

Jefferson pulled his lips off Alexander’s neck for long enough to say: “Damn, you’ve gotta get in on this, Jemmy.”

Madison didn’t need to be told twice; still keeping his unyielding grip on Alexander’s ponytail, he bit down into his shoulder blade. If Jefferson drank like every mouthful could be his last, Madison sipped on Alexander’s blood like it was fine whisky and he wanted to take his time to appreciate the taste and the burn of it. It was similar to how Alexander would imagine Burr drank, based on how slowly he went through the blood bags but _don’t think about that don’t don’t don’t-_

Jefferson jerked Alexander’s hips forward and a broken moan escaped his mouth as the tip of his now fully hardened cock rubbed against the cotton of Jefferson’s shirt. The taller man laughed breathlessly and looped his arm under Alexander’s knee, yanking it up and leaving him open and exposed. There was brief rustling and soon a pair of slick fingers (they must have been Madison’s, Hamilton registered) pushed their way inside him. Alexander cried out but wouldn’t have managed to string together a coherent sentence, even if he knew whether he wanted to tell them to stop or go faster. It was merciless, the way they kept assaulting his neck while Jefferson ran his hands up and down his torso, sometimes dragging his nails across Alexander’s skin hard enough to leave scratch marks no doubt; and then there was Madison with the methodological pace of his fingers that he sometimes punctuated with sharp tugs of hair. It was an endless onslaught on Alexander’s senses, his skin tingling and sensitive thanks to the blindfold.

Eventually Madison worked in a third finger and curled them right against Alexander’s prostate and he let out a high-pitched whine. Madison exhaled through his nose and deliberately worked around the spot except for a few choice strokes and Alexander started to fear he just might start crying.

Jefferson gave his neck a final lick, sighed contently, took a step back and pinched a nipple. “Well?” he asked.

“Let’s just say the taste of his blood is his best attribute, but not the only one,” Madison said.

Alexander choked on his own spit when Jefferson swept a fingertip over the slit of his neglected cock. He tutted and swiped his sticky finger over Alexander’s lips. “Making a mess already, and we’ve barely gotten started.” He grabbed Alexander’s chin. “Say, you wanna get fucked by James over here?”

Madison chose that moment to curl his fingers against his prostate and Alex found himself nodding frantically because yes, he wanted them to use him and squeeze every drop out of him and most importantly tell him how good he was, because he knew he could be _so good_ , if he wanted to, and his all-consuming desire to prove himself in every situation just might get Alex killed one of these days but at this point he was too damn aroused to dwell on that. Perhaps there wasn’t enough blood in his system to go around for his brain.

“Use your words, Alexander,” Madison said, his voice smooth and detached as though he was scolding a child out of habit.

“Please,” Alex choked out. “Plea-se, ah, Mister M-Madison sir, Mister Jefferson, please fuck me, I-”

There were retreating footsteps and then the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. “Make him cry, James,” Jefferson said.

Madison pulled his fingers out, wrapped an arm around Alexander’s pelvis in a way that drew his back into an arch, and kicked his legs further apart. There was the sound of a zipper and some rustling and then Alexander could feel Madison’s cock pressing against his entrance, slick and hard and _large._ He bit his lower lip and spared a fleeting thought to whether the vampire was wearing a condom or not and, as sick as it was, realized he liked the idea that he had no way of knowing and there was nothing he could do about it anyways, he was completely at their mercy.

“Please,” he breathed again, knowing what was expected of him just from the way Madison stilled. Madison huffed, grabbed Alexander’s hips and started to push in. Just like with the fingering, his rhythm was calculated but relentless, and Alexander was just on the uncomfortable side of not stretched enough but his body had no choice but to yield under Madison’s relentless push. He tried to think back to a time he’d taken a cock this big but his head felt light and hazy and all he could focus on was the sensation of being filled.

Madison seated himself fully into Alex with a sharp tug of his hips and hissed - the first and only crack in his calm facade.

“That good?” Jefferson pitched his voice up from his chair playfully.

“Just be glad you won’t need to wait for your turn for too long,” Madison grunted and started thrusting. For once Alexander was grateful of the blindfold since at least Jefferson couldn’t see the way his eyes rolled back into his head. He turned his head to the side and lightly bit into his bicep but it did little to stop the strangled cries from falling out of his mouth every time Madison’s cock rubbed against his prostate or caught into his rim with particularly drawn-out thrusts. He didn’t need to see to know he was seeping pre-cum. How long had he been hard? Surely an hour at least by now? And yet Madison made no move to stroke him off, his palms firmly planted on Alexander’s hips. The tie around his wrists was chafing painfully now; if he were lying comfortably in a soft bed he might have been able to come on Madison’s cock alone but he was left strung up and needy and uncomfortable and-

It just wasn’t _fair._

“Please let… let me-” he gasped hoarsely.

“No,” Madison grunted.

That’s when the first sob escaped his chest.

“Aww, poor thing,” Jefferson said, suddenly in front of Alexander. He licked up a long streak of blood that had dripped down Alexander’s chest. Once again he gathered the precum leaking from his tip with two fingers, eliciting another broken sob.

“Please, please, please,” Alexander chanted. Madison suddenly hooked his arms under Alexander’s knees and lifted them up to his sides. The increased weight on his wrists made him cry out even more helplessly.

“See I don’t know if I feel like waiting for my turn,” Jefferson said, casual. The two fingers, slick with precome, pressed against Alexander’s hole and slipped in with Madison’s cock. Alexander's world seemed to convulse. “I wonder if you can actually back up that big talk about being able to take _anything_ between the two of us.”

The implications of the words combined with the fingers in his ass were too clear even for Alexander’s hazy consciousness to miss and he gasped for air helplessly. The stretch of Jefferson’s fingers with Madison’s cock felt so good his whole body was shivering, but at the same time he knew that if Jefferson was anywhere near as big as Madison the two of them would split him in half.

Madison chuckled breathlessly, his thrust getting more shallow and harsh by the minute. “He’s pretty damn tight, I think we might break him,” he said.

Jefferson hummed and curled his fingers against the prostate he’d found just as easily as every other god damn pleasure point on Alexander’s body thus far.

“He’s pretty accommodating however,” Madison continued. “With some, ah, perseverance, he might be able to take it eventually.”

Jefferson suddenly hooked a thumb under the blindfold and yanked it off. The onslaught of light made Alex scrunch up his eyes and once the initial shock subsided the world was still blurry - it really hit him how much he was crying at that point. Jefferson cupped his cheek and swiped the tears from the underside of his eye with his thumb.

“Say Alexander,” he breathed, filling up his vision, devouring his senses. “What was it that you wanted to know again?”

Madison yanked at Alexander’s hips until the angle made his cock push against his prostate with every thrust. Jefferson pulled his fingers out of his strained hole and cupped his balls, the other hand yanking at his ponytail to keep his head up. This time Jefferson didn’t miss out on how Alexander’s eyes rolled back into his skull.

“Go on now,” Jefferson prompted, “say his name, ask me where he is as though there’s anywhere else you’d rather be and I’ll tell you. What do you want Alexander?”

A name? It was right there, at the tip of his tongue, the reason he was here, just ten minutes ago he could have remembered easily but now there was just the heat, the pressure always building and building and building at the pit of his stomach. God he needed to come, he needed-

“More,” he gasped between sobs. “More, more, please, I need…”

Madison slammed his hips into Alexander’s, as deep as he could go, and came with a grunt. He rested his head against Alexander’s shoulder for a heartbeat and pulled out with a slick sound. “All yours,” he said.

Jefferson’s eyes flashed with delight and he grabbed Alexander’s cock. As his jaw fell slack Jefferson’s tie was stuffed into it and then Jefferson was reaching up and-

Alex whimpered as his knees hit the floor and blood rushed back into his hands after the circulation had been cut for so long. It hurt, more than anything so far, and without the sweet aftertaste of pleasure. Before he really came to he found himself hauled against the coffee table, his chest flat against the cool surface.

Jefferson ran his palms over his lower back, the gesture more possessive than gentle.

And then he was inside Alex and all he could do was gasp because Jefferson was big, at least as big as Madison, and despite of being stretched out Alexander was oversensitive and fucked out and wet and it was somehow too much and not enough at the same time. If only they untied his hands, he could probably find the strength to stroke himself off, but he knew without asking that wouldn’t do. Not that he even could with a mouthful of silk. It was easy to tell Jefferson was enjoying how pliable he was, not even pushing back to meet his hips but just lying there and taking it.

“That’s better,” he panted and rolled his hips deep and slow. “What a good boy you can be with a little bit of discipline, Alexander.”

Alex had thought he couldn’t come untouched. He’d been wrong. The moment those words of praise registered into his hazy consciousness he tipped over the edge with a high-pitched, broken moan.

“Did he just-“ Jefferson stilled, sounding perplexed, and reached around to grab Alexander’s dick, which was still pumping out semen. The sudden contact with the now oversensitive column of flesh made Alexander cry out even louder. His whole body quivered with drawn-out pleasure and his sobs now had a blissful undertone to them.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Jefferson said, his tone a mixture of amusement and reluctant admiration.

“And without permission too,” Madison said, now seated on a sofa nearby.

Jefferson laughed and started to thrust again. “What are we to do with you, Alexander?”

Alex felt like an exposed nerve. He let his forehead fall against the glass with a thud and spread his legs wider.

After Jefferson pulled out and shot his load over Alexander’s back he just patted at his side and got up, one of them (did it really matter which?) said “you’re welcome” and then they were gone just as quick as they had appeared.

Eventually someone came in and untied Alexander’s hands, tugged the tie out of his mouth and helped him into a set of clothes with Aide-de-Champ’s logo on them with calm and competent hands. All Alexander really remembered about them afterwards was the smell of their pine shampoo. He was put into a prepaid taxi that took him to his flat.

Once his phone charged enough to turn on he received a text:

**BURR (1:37)**

**Will be back by Monday, don’t do anything stupid.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I wanted to add a bunch random mixed metaphors into this chapter for consistency’s sake but they totally kill the mood so I limited myself to two lol)
> 
> So the plan is that I’m taking a week-long break to bang out the rest of the chapters, just to make sure that I’ll be able to have those up weekly as well. Ch 4 is done already so it should be doable. Thank you so much for the support this fic has gotten already (pls keep improving the quality of my life with your reviews), and good luck to my fellow exam-takers!!
> 
> See yall on the 22nd~


	4. Blood is a Juice of Rarest Quality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron hauls his ass home and things get awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, the plot is back! The rest of the story will be more hamburr-centric, but we haven’t seen the last of the Virginians, either. Also Jaden Daut is back at it again with improving my life quality with his amazing art: [x](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BxnjdC0X-BvvVkVlYTNZcUpESEtUNG1jUkUycWc2OGJxNlB3/view?usp=drivesdk) [x](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BxnjdC0X-BvvSTdIU2tidUg5V0xkNEFDU0drZUJUa0JRN0RR/view?usp=drivesdk) [x](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BxnjdC0X-BvvMDJaQ2NnZ2tkLUxIQ3RWODFycU5qYUlBaXZN/view?usp=drivesdk) [x](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BxnjdC0X-BvvRE1mcHZ2U0kwOTl0bW1YNEdfcUpTLUE0ay1B/view?usp=drivesdk) (NSFW warning for the first 2).
> 
> Warning: there’s a brief body horror element in this chapter. It doesn’t actually 'happen' to anyone per se but it’s there and it’s gross so if you’d rather avoid it just skip the bit about the dream and you’re good.

PART II

 

**ALEXANDER (11:32)**

**You know me**

Burr glanced again at the ambiguous reply he’d had to wait half a day for, and opted to interpret the tone as playful. He tugged the phone back into his coat pocket and glanced out of the taxi window; only a little while to go. He felt a peculiar mixture of apprehension and anticipation at the prospect of facing Alexander again after leaving so abruptly. There was a tinge of guilt there too even though, as he reminded himself again, the situation had been out of his control.

This sort of a thing wouldn’t have been an issue had Burr gotten Alexander his own apartment like he’d initially planned to, but the boy wouldn’t hear of it. _I’m not a 19th century mistress of a factory owner_ , he’d said, a playful glint in his eyes betraying the sternness of his expression.

To Alexander’s credit, it had taken Aaron a while to clock the fact that these haphazard historical allusions were intentional probes meant to provoke him into giving away how long ago he’d been alive. It had taken Alexander even longer to realize that Aaron was intentionally messing with him with his occasional made up quips (‘ _so that’s what bae stands for these days? Just a while ago people called their mortal enemies that, as a short for ‘bane of my existence’_ ’).

A small smile was tugging at the corners of Aaron’s mouth as he paid the taxi driver, strode up the stairs and unlocked the door to their apartment. Greg (the name of the cat if anything was proof that Alex should not be responsible for another living being) was unusually eager to greet him as soon as he stepped in. Aaron bent down to give his back an absentminded rub.

A streak of light peeking from under Alexander’s bedroom door in the otherwise dark apartment beckoned Aaron to check on him. He really had no way of predicting whether he would be met with a welcoming grin, accusations or something in between; the circumstances had taken an unexpected dive to an unusual direction, and while Alexander was rather frank about his emotions, the emotions themselves were nearly as difficult to keep track of as his mind was. Only God knew what paths Alexander’s thoughts had taken during the few days Aaron had been indisposed.

Still, how bad could it really be?

He allowed himself a small sigh, walked up to the door and gave it a few soft knocks with the backs of his knuckles. There was a nondescript noise on the other side, which he took as an invitation to step in.

As usual Aaron took in the chaos of the room with slight irritation, which he forced to subside by reminding himself that Alexander was allowed to do what he wanted with his space, as long as he respected the need to keep their shared spaces tidy. Which he thankfully did. Still, would it really hurt to have some semblance of order amidst the chaos of books, used up pens and half-dirty clothes?

“Welcome back.”

Cleanliness-related concerns fled Aaron’s mind as soon as his eyes landed on Alexander, sitting with his legs crossed on the unmade bed with his laptop and books sprawled around him. All of that however was merely background noise to the one thing that seized every bit of Aaron’s attention; the bite mark that was right there on Alexander’s delicate neck, middle and centre, like it was daring the viewer to judge it for its audacity.

It was sloppy; not in the way the bite marks of young vampires were sloppy, but rather like the person who’d given it (as if Aaron didn’t already know with every fibre of his being _exactly_ who had given it) hadn’t been holding back or been met with any real resistance. It looked like a mocking, self-aware kiss that intended to brand as much as it intended to consume, the skin around the small cuts blossomed into purple bruises as the blood vessels had burst open under the suction. It was fresh, maybe one day old - two at most.

_God, what have you done?_

Aaron realized he had been quiet for more than a few seconds now. Alexander raised his eyes from the screen of his laptop and fixed them on the spot on the wall next to Aaron’s head. Now that Aaron finally managed to tear his eyes away from _that,_ he also registered the messy state of Alexander’s hair, and the dark bags under his slightly bloodshot eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week (well, even more so than usual). He was also wearing a heavy knitted cardigan as though he was cold despite of the normal August-temperature of the apartment.

Aaron’s fingers curled around the wood of the doorframe, out of Alexander’s line of sight.

Alex cleared his throat. “So there’s, uh, there’s blood in the fridge if you haven’t, ya know. So. I’m gonna drop by in the corner store before it closes.” Alexander’s voice was too small and hesitant for that big mouth of his.

“Alright,” Aaron said. “Thank you.” His usual mask of neutrality was thankfully still securely on his face. He kept his eyes on Alexander’s now, but his gaze wasn’t being met. He needed to step away and _think_.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Aaron said, and Alexander nodded stiffly. He closed the door gingerly, counted to ten in his head until he could uncurl his fingers from the iron-like grip they had on the handle, and stepped away from the door. He walked into his bedroom and closed that door carefully as well.

Aaron remained there, seated on the side of his bed facing the wall for a while. He registered the muffled sounds of Alexander cooing at the cat and then leaving the apartment for his grocery store run, but remained unmoving.

He was overreacting, he knew he was. So Alexander had went and gotten his blood sucked by _Thomas motherfucking Jefferson_ after Aaron left for _a couple of days_ -

No, he was most certainly not getting angry about it. Concerned, confused, and perplexed, sure; that was the range of acceptable emotions he could be having right now, and even those would be of no particular help.

Aaron sighed deeply and rubbed at his eyelids. There was nothing he could (or should!) do but wait and see how things would pan out.

 

* * *

 

Aaron didn’t actually touch the blood in the fridge for a few more weeks; he’d been provided with sustenance during his short trip away so he didn’t particularly need to.

Not that that was the main problem, really.

His resolve was broken one Tuesday night when Alexander slipped out of the apartment, dressed in clothes that emphasised the soft curves and dips of his lean frame, with his proverbial tail between his legs. He left behind a note saying he’d be back by morning.

Aaron found himself tearing one of the blood bags open with urgent ungraceful hands over the sink, his fangs already pushing out of their hiding place in his skull. _Shouldn’t do this when I’m like this,_ he thought but still raised the glass to his lips as soon as the contents were heated up. Even that had taken entirely too long seeing that he wasn’t quite desperate enough to drink it cold, or butchered by the microwave. Aaron’s throat felt like sandpaper by the time the liquid’s temperature started to approach acceptable levels.

His eyes fluttered closed and a deep groan escaped his throat the second Alexander’s blood hit his tongue.

It was fantastic of course, as always. Tasted like a frantically beating heart, like a burning hot summer night, like a deep, desperate kiss in the midst of lovemaking, he could make as many cheesy metaphors as he liked and never be quite satisfied with any of them.

And then came the wretched thoughts of what it might taste like fresh. Warmed up by Alexander’s body rather than the stove. How it might be like to have him pressed against a wall, squirming and sighing under Aaron’s hands and mouth. What kinds of noises he’d make, what it would take to make him cry. Aaron would press a reminder of who exactly Alexander belonged to into every inch of his skin if he needed to, the boy wouldn’t even consider straying again once Aaron had him under his fingertips.

He slammed the empty cup onto the counter hard but not hard enough to shatter it. Apparently he still had some semblance of control left in him. Aaron let his head fall and huffed out a humorless laugh. Why did Alexander have to creep under his skin again, after Aaron had so carefully beaten down the primal effect the boy’s blood stirred in him? Alexander smelled good, sure, but it never quite betrayed the full effect of the taste (that was why Aaron had been so unprepared the first time around, had barely stopped himself from pinning the boy down and burying his teeth into his neck right then and there).

Well, no point lamenting over it now. Aaron held his breath and counted to ten, forced his hands to steady and his fangs to withdraw back into his gums. Then he got to work.

He mixed a spoonful of brown sugar with a spoonful of honey, used the mixture to scrub off the top layer of skin on his lips and tongue, and followed it by gurgling a tablespoonful of vinegar (disgusting but effective). He scrubbed at his hands with dishwashing liquid until they felt sore, carefully disposed of the blood bag, washed the mug and kettle and scrubbed every inch of the stove meticulously. The apartment still smelled like Alexander of course, but after he’d had the windows open for a while, the scent of his warmed up blood was finally, thankfully gone.

And now that Aaron was back to thinking like a rational, civilised being the shame came flooding in with the pollution-ridden New York City air. Alexander wasn’t ‘his' and never would be; Aaron had come too far to now abandon his ideals pertaining to ownership over _human beings_ , his very moral core, as soon as he wanted something he shouldn’t. The Virginians were corrupting him through Alexander, and he wouldn’t allow it.

He would control himself.

When Alexander stumbled back into the apartment smelling like blood, self-loathing and sex, Aaron was seated in one of the living room chairs with his legs crossed, reading a newspaper. The boy looked at him like his wife had just caught him red-handed (ha!) at having an affair. The bite marks weren’t visible this time around and Aaron forced himself not to think about whether that was for better or worse.

What he looked for were signs that Alex was caught up in all this against his will; that the Virginians were holding something over his head. Some small, shameful part of Aaron was hoping that was the case.

An even bigger part of Aaron knew it wasn’t. He knew Madison and Jefferson better than that. They would never bother to blackmail a human into a long-term arrangement; getting them to offer it (want it) over and over again was half of the entertainment for them. Especially when it came with the extra perk of spiting another vampire. Somehow they managed to taunt Aaron without saying a word to him directly.

“Hi there,” Alex said and picked Greg up so he wouldn’t have to meet Aaron’s eyes.

Aaron waited until he did, and smiled gently. “Go to sleep, Alexander. You look exhausted.”

Alex looked at Aaron like he was searching for something on his face, and came out empty handed. A frustrated crease appeared between his brows but he quickly hid it by nuzzling his cheek against the cat.

“Rude, but sure. G’night.”

He didn’t wait for an answer but stomped straight to his bedroom.

Aaron opened the windows again.

 

* * *

 

The following week Aaron dreamt of dragging Alexander by the hair on top of the highest skyscraper in Manhattan. The world watched as he straddled him, pinning him in place, and carefully carved out every bit of flesh that had been tainted by other people’s hands. Alexander lied under him, weeping but pliant. He understood it was necessary.

Aaron smiled proudly down at his creation and planted his seeds into the empty hollowed out parts of Alexander. He watched as they were filled with flourishing greenery, bearing fruit. He picked up the ripest one of them and bit into the soft, sweet flesh.

When Aaron jerked awake with his fists tightly curled around the sheets he could still feel the sensation of the sweet, thick juice running down his chin and dripping onto his chest. He lied back down and stared at the ceiling in silence until the feeling subsided and his breathing evened out.

It was the first dream he’d had in decades.

 

* * *

 

So perhaps Aaron could no longer quite tell whether he wanted to save Alexander from the Virginians or himself. Nevertheless, the first scenario was becoming more and more of a concern - Alex was skipping lectures to sleep in instead, and swallowing painkillers like candy when he thought Aaron wasn’t looking (probably headaches, a common symptom of anemia). When they were sitting side by side in the living room (which didn’t happen that much these days), Aaron could just so make out the faint, rapid thump of Alexander’s quickened heartbeat. He hadn’t stopped filling the fridge with blood bags in steady intervals. Aaron suspected that he would rather pass out and go to the hospital than stop holding his end of the bargain.

Aaron was on his knees on the bathroom floor, his sleeves peeled up and his mind whirring through the same thought patterns he’d been stuck repeating for days with no end in sight. The harsh smell of chemicals was attacking his heightened sense of smell, but at this point he vastly preferred it over the alternative.

Alexander feeding Burr, Jefferson and Madison at the same time just wasn’t feasible long-term. Aaron didn’t need much himself, had spent the last two centuries gradually but relentlessly training his body to get by with less and less until he could comfortably live with less than half of what an average vampire consumed. And it wasn’t as if the Southerners needed that much to get by either, Aaron thought irritably as he scrubbed at the shower walls with the strongest detergent he’d gotten his hands on; Jefferson and Madison had an abundance of fresh, eager blood at their disposal, they didn’t _need_ to be drinking that much when Alexander crawled back to them roughly every other week. Then again, there were very few things that those two did because they _needed_ to.

Aaron knew exactly how this would play out, knew the script intimately. They would just take and take and take until there would be nothing left, and then discharge Alexander like a dirty towel. Alexander with his dreams so big they made small-minded people uncomfortable, with his rapid wit that still couldn’t keep up with his mouth half of the time, with that sun-kissed, youthful and defenceless face that he barely had any control over. They would take his heart and his ambitions and his secrets and squeeze out every last drop, reduce him into a good meal and a fuck because that was all they were capable of seeing in a human, even one as loudly and infuriatingly brilliant as Alexander.

 _No one deserves that_ , Aaron told himself as he picked up an old toothbrush and attacked the creases between the tiles. And yet he couldn’t deny that he’d spent the last few centuries quite complicit in just letting it happen. He’d always seen it as a hill he wasn’t willing to die defending; after all, to the likes of Jefferson and Madison he was but a newcomer in this society of theirs. He’d earned his good standing overtime, but protesting against the way things _just were done_ would be overstepping his welcome.

So there really was no logical justification for not stepping aside and letting them have Alex. Moving on and finding someone new. There was an abundance of young people unable to pay for their education, the current administration had made sure of that.

And yet, the notion made Aaron grind his molars in frustration. It was a waste - that was the other thing that he told himself. With some resources and guidance, Alex could really prosper. Sometimes when he was talking (as exhausting as it could be to listen to Hamilton talk), Aaron found himself thinking _this kid could actually make a dent on the world._ And he had seen too many cycles of history repeating itself to think that lightly.

 _I have every right to be dissatisfied_ , Aaron thought irritably. _We have an agreement and this is interfering with Alexander’s ability to hold up to his end of it._ But was there any way of bringing it up without sounding like a hypocrite? Without actually _being_ one? He had, after all, said himself that Alex was free to go to Jefferson at the start.

Aaron sighed in frustration and stood up; all traces of the smell that was left lingering every time Alex returned from Monticello and sat in the shower scrubbing himself clean over and over again until the water ran cold were finally gone.

Something of value had been achieved, at least.

 

* * *

 

It continued like that for a while, with Aaron going back and forth trapped in his inner monologue of conflict, while Alexander’s health (and grades) kept deteriorating along with their relationship every time he sneaked away to meet the Southerners. They still had playful back-and-forths and smiled at each other when their paths crossed, but it felt more like a forced front rather than the comfortable atmosphere they had slipped into as a result of sharing a space for two years. The questions and accusations that had been left unsaid for a few months now hanged heavy in the air that felt tainted somehow, no matter how much Aaron aired out the apartment.

Aaron knew on an instinctual level that the dam would have to give out eventually, for better or worse. What he didn’t expect was that the thing that would kick everything into motion was him absentmindedly checking his online bank statement one unremarkable Sunday evening. As much of a hassle as modern technology could be, he had to admit that the lessened paperwork was a blessing.

He did a double take at his latest list of transactions and frowned slightly; the rental agency had refunded his latest rent-instalment. He tapped at his balance and everything seemed to be up and up, nothing else was out of place.

A little bit of digging and a couple of emails later he found out that the rent for the next five months had been paid already, which only served to add to his confusion.

“Alexander,” Aaron raised his voice.

Alex came out of the bathroom dressed in loose sweatpants and a t-shirt, a towel draped over his shoulders and his hair damp. The hotness of the shower had raised a rosy tint on his cheeks. “Yeah?”

“Have you… paid the rent in advance?” Aaron asked slowly. It felt ridiculous to even ask (Alex wasn’t exactly drowning in extra income, obviously).

“Have I..? No?” Alexander frowned, perplexed. He ran his fingers through his hair and the movement caused the hem of his shirt to raise above the waistband of the sweatpants, and it wasn’t like Aaron was deliberately looking but he could still see a faint red mark right under Alexander’s hip bone.

And suddenly the puzzle pieces fell into place. Alexander looked even more confused as Aaron’s expression darkened as he stood up slowly. Of course he wouldn’t understand; this wasn’t even about Alex, really.

“Aaron, what’s-”

“Stay here,” Aaron commanded, his voice dark and low. Alexander’s eyes widened and his mouth fell slightly open, but he nodded silently. Aaron picked up his keys and wallet and strode out of the apartment with furious, calm determination.

Thankfully he managed to flag down a cab as soon as he stepped onto the main road; he needed to ride this wave of aggression all the way into his grave. Alexander goddamn Hamilton really would be the death of him.

“To hotel Aide-de-Champ, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> L i s t e n I know that all the cool kids think love triangles are dumb and lame and why can’t we have healthy polyamory instead and I hear ya I really do but also you can rip my trashy jealousy-induced melodrama out of my cold, dead hands.
> 
> The next chapter’s gonna answer more questions than it creates I swear.


	5. Good Blood Will Never Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burr dives off the deep end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed the tags, there be more kinks.

The receptionist slid the keycard forward before Aaron could even make it up to the counter with a bright smile and an ‘ _enjoy your night, sir’_. He flashed her a grateful smile and made a beeline at the elevators.

It was lively as ever in Monticello; for all their terrible, terrible personality and moral flaws, the Southerners did know how to run a business. The air was heavy with smoke and body heat generated by the dancing humans. Aaron kept his focus on his objective; he wasn’t very versed in causing stirs, but he was pretty sure that having to stop for small talk with an acquaintance would kill his momentum.

The center pieces of the party were easy to locate, just based on the lively chatter of the crowd perpetually clinging to them. Aaron was allowed entrance to the VIP balcony as if they’d been expecting him all along -a bad sign if he’d ever seen one. He rolled his eyes inwardly at the glamorous socialite life the Southerners were leading, Jefferson in the spotlight where he belonged, and Madison by his side, seemingly unassuming but ultimately holding most of the reigns. Flashing disco lights and smoke machines aside, this was exactly what those two had been doing for centuries now. This was thoroughly their turf, Aaron was acutely aware of that.

“Why, if it isn’t Aaron Burr!” Jefferson exclaimed, spreading his arms in a way that almost knocked the girl on his lap onto the floor. If he noticed he didn’t care.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Madison asked, smiling coolly.

Aaron acknowledged that in a different life he and Madison could have gotten along well enough; he recognized a similar type of silent control in Madison that he strived for himself. He didn’t flaunt his power the way Jefferson did, allowed it to speak for itself when the opportune moment came to strike. Based on the company he kept, the sense of appreciation wasn’t mutual however.

Aaron gestured at a chair opposite from them. “May I?”

The crowd around them was perching up like they could tell that something entertaining was about to take place, and Aaron wasn’t about to be made to stand there like schoolboy chastised in front of the class. He needed to grab onto any inch of dignity that he could in order to frame himself as an equal with the Virginians. He received a nod and sat down smoothly, his fingers interlaced and resting on his lap, calm and still.

“Enjoy your little adventure back in court?” Jefferson asked casually, stroking the inner thigh of the girl on his lap absentmindedly. Burr smiled, not thinking about those same hands on Alexander’s body.

“Oh, I would hardly characterize it as an adventure,” he said. “But yes, it was quite fascinating to see how things are ran there these days. It has been quite a while since my lawyer-days, after all.” That wasn’t even a lie.

“I hear that your testimony was rather pivotal to helping Miss Prevost’s client win the case,” Madison said.

“I merely told them what I told you,” Aaron said, still smiling pleasantly. “But yes, I am glad General Washington will no longer be hindered by this lawsuit.”

And wasn’t it funny, how it all had worked out in favor of the Southerner’s oldest ally, without either of them getting dragged into court for days? With Alexander being left vulnerable, up for grabs? _Let it go,_ Aaron thought as his fingers threatened to clench. _This is their playground, you didn’t come here to change that._

Amusement flashed in Jefferson’s eyes. “I suppose it was worth it, then.”

“Of course it was,” Aaron said. That wasn’t a lie, either; Theodosia had called in a favor. He would never regret helping her, even if the consequences had landed him into this situation.

Aaron decided they’d all had their fill of loaded small talk. Better get on with it.

“It came to my notice that the rent of mine and Alexander’s apartment has been paid for the following five months,” he said, willing a mask of casual inquisitiveness onto his face.

“Oh that?” Jefferson grinned and leaned back. “Just a little token of gratitude to dear Alexander for his, ah, services during your absence. And after.” Cue snickering from the surrounding crowd.

Aaron’s jaw muscles felt sore, but he kept smiling. “That was very gracious of you, but there really was no need. We are quite well off.”

“Oh, but surely you don’t think this is about money,” said Madison, smiling pleasantly. “It is all merely a matter of reciprocity.”

The nerve of it almost made Aaron sputter. Talking about _reciprocity_ after centuries of accumulating so much wealth and power they couldn’t use it all in ten vampire-length lifespans if they tried.

“I was under the impression you reciprocated Alexander’s efforts in other ways, or else he would not have offered them to begin with,” he said, recklessly.

“Oh, we did,” Jefferson was lightning-quick to shoot back. “But he was positively _starving_ when he first came to us, we couldn’t possibly sate him enough.”

“You have been rather cruel to leave him in such a state,” said Madison and the crowd’s laughter increased as though they’d all been there and seen Hamilton crawl at their feet, begging to be used.

God, Aaron hoped that wasn’t the case.

“I must contest that Alexander’s state hasn’t exactly improved since he started his… liaisons with you,” Aaronsaid, his voice coming out forced, but even. The Southerners both gained a hungry, predator-like gleam in their eyes - it must have been delightful for them to be challenged in this manner for once. Coming in here had been a gamble and Aaron could feel he had the losing hand, but he needed to remain calm. Alexander hadn’t stood a chance against them; Aaron owed him a defense at least, even after the fact.

Jefferson’s hand had stilled on his human’s thigh.

“Well then, did you come here to tell us to stay away from dear little Alexander?” he asked, an eyebrow elegantly arched over those sharp eyes.

“No,” Aaron replied slowly. “Alexander’s actions are not mine to dictate, he is free to make his own choices.”

“And therein lies your problem.” The whites of Jefferson’s teeth flashed dangerously. “You whine and moan when you don’t get what you want, and yet refuse to claim it for yourself. A boy like Alexander could never be satisfied by that.”

That gave Aaron pause. He’d expected bragging about how they fucked so well anyone would grow addicted to it (they would get around to that part sooner or later, no doubt), but to suggest that Aaron had himself to blame for neglecting Alexander’s needs?

“Anaemic and self-loathing is not my definition of ‘satisfied’,” Aaron retorted.

“And yet, he keeps crawling back to us,” Madison said, his cocky side emerging at last to remind Aaron why he didn’t even want to befriend the man. “Keeps begging for it.”

Aaron suddenly felt his fangs pressing against the inside of his lip, sharp and insistent. He willed them to retract before he spoke. “You are hardly the first ones to exploit Alexander’s self-destructive tendencies.”

Jefferson shook his head, amused. “Still clinging to the notion that you’re Alexander’s benevolent protector?”

“Beating humans into submission as if I need to prove myself superior to them is beneath me,” Aaron snapped. One needed to speak their language to get somewhere with ancient vampires. It had been foolish of him to try to sell them on his worldview to begin with.

If the Virginians felt a blow from his accusation, they didn’t show it. Jefferson’s smirk only widened.

“Do you truly not realize that subduing them is for their benefit, not ours?” he asked and wrapped his hand around the neck of the girl on his lap. She gasped at the sudden pressure and squirmed excitedly. Aaron felt a sickening twist in his stomach.

Madison leaned back and followed the exchange with a subtle smile on his lips, clearly content watching Jefferson tear into Aaron’s ideology.

“Due to the repressed existence you’ve doomed yourself into thus far, you’ve failed to realize a very fundamental truth about what draws them to us,” Jefferson said, stroking the bite mark on the girl’s neck with his thumb. “Which is that they crave being used, ultimately.”

He was wrong.

“Anyone can be a blood bag to sate your thirst, but Alexander is exquisite isn’t he?” Jefferson continued, his grin getting even more predatory somehow. “But what’s more is that he breaks so beautifully, like he was made to be unravelled by the most worthy. You haven’t seen it, but you can imagine it, can’t you?”

He was right.

Suddenly Aaron could see, plain as day, all the times Alex had looked at him like he’d been left wanting – and then the way he’d looked at Aaron with startled intensity when Aaron had barked an order at him before storming off to face the Southerners. What the Virginians had been exploiting all along was not Alexander’s self-destructive tendencies, after all.

Aaron stood up almost quickly enough to knock the chair over and turned around on his heels.

“Give Alexander our best,” Madison called after him. “If you see him before we do, that is.” The roaring laughter of the crowd followed Aaron down the stairs.

None of them mattered. Aaron knew what he needed to do.

 

* * *

 

Alex sprung up from his seat on the sofa as soon as Aaron stomped into the room, and flinched. His hair had mostly dried by then, but otherwise he looked exactly the same, like he had barely moved after Aaron stormed out.

Still, he looked almost surprised that Aaron really did come back this time around.

“Will you _now_ tell me what the hell is going on?” Alexander asked, spreading his arms frustratedly.

Aaron strode to stand a step away from the man and fixed him with an intense stare. “We are going to talk,” he said, trying his hardest to decipher every thought running behind Alexander’s eyes. “Sit.”

Now that he was looking for it, it was easy to spot the deepening of the pink dusting on Alexander’s cheeks and the slight dilation of his pupils at the commanding edge in Aaron’s tone. He lowered himself back onto the sofa slowly.

“Good.”

Aaron seated himself into a chair opposite from him, crossed his legs and interlaced his fingers. _Let’s try this again, this time with some actual control._

Aaron waited until Alexander made proper eye contact and voiced his question: “Why did you go to Monticello, initially?”

Alexander looked embarrassed and slightly panicked, then irritated. “What else could I do? You disappeared all of a sudden and it was the only clue I had. I thought they could tell me something _._ ”

Aaron could practically feel the coldness seeping from the stare he gave Alexander. “And did they?”

The pink on Alexander’s cheeks deepened and he twisted his fingers on his lap. “No.”

Aaron huffed and closed his eyes for a moment. “Of course they didn’t. And funnily enough, I could almost swear that when they visited, I told you they were-“

“You left!” Aaron was stunned silent by Alexander’s sudden accusation, the way his voice cracked slightly. “You just left and didn’t say anything and my whole life is built around you now!” Alex glared at Aaron with that defensive vulnerability so typical of him.

“You could have survived without my money for at least a month,” Aaron said, raising an eyebrow.

Alex inhaled and glanced at the ceiling in frustration. “And has it occurred to you that, just maybe, I was worried? That I _care_ , just a little bit, even if you don’t?”

That came out of the left field. Aaron was left at a loss for words.

“Where _were_ you?”

Aaron closed his eyes and sighed. He should have had this conversation with Alex the night he came back instead of getting distracted. He really could only blame himself and his need to think everything through a million times, for letting things to get to this point. Alexander was human, they didn’t work in the same careful pace as vampires did because they didn’t have the time to. Somehow Aaron had forgotten about that.

“An old friend of mine, Theodosia Prevost, works as a lawyer in the Court of Expeditus and she-”

“The court of what now?” Alex cut him off.

“Our version of a justice system, if you will,” Aaron explained patiently. Alex had picked up on a great deal of how the vampire society worked no doubt, but that was because he was bright and observant, rather than on Aaron’s accord. He’d seen the way the underworld swallowed up and spat out the humans who got too involved with it, and had intentionally kept Alex as detached from it as he could.

“Gotcha,” Alex said, gears visibly turning. Aaron smiled fondly on the inside but kept his face neutral.

“As I was saying, she needed my help to win a case for her client.” Getting into the complicated and intense history of him and Theodosia wouldn’t serve a purpose in this conversation, Aaron decided, and kept giving his trimmed rendition of the events. “Although, it would have been my duty to give a statement to the court either way – this was a rather serious matter. Serious enough that Jefferson and Madison were scoping out the prospects of their old ally actually winning the case.”

Alex nodded, clearly catching on. “So when they visited the day before you disappeared-“

“It was related to my ‘disappearance’, but not the cause of it,” Aaron finished Alexander’s sentence.

Alex closed his eyes and huffed through his nose. “Post hoc ergo propter hoc.”

“Indeed,” Aaron nodded, overlooking Alexander’s dreadful pronunciation of Latin. “The reason I was relevant in all this to begin with was that I’ve handled General Washington’s –the client’s, that is- prospects more than a few times in the past in my work. I can’t tell you what exactly he was accused of due to confidentiality, but it was related to his financial matters.”

“That’s all well and good, but why the hell didn’t you tell me? All you needed to do was send a text.” Alex was back to eyeing Aaron accusingly.

“Our court system is… particular,” Aaron explained carefully. “Ancient beings do not enjoy feeling like their actions are being dictated over, but at the same time there needs to be a system of checks and balances in order to stop everything from falling apart, and to keep our existence at least something resembling a secret. Therefore, the court rarely steps in, but when it does it is for a dire cause, and it’s… intense.”

Alex raised his eyebrows to encourage Aaron to go on.

“As soon as I agreed to testify for Theodosia, I was stripped of any means of communication with the rest of the world, lest I try to get my story straight with someone else.”

Alexander’s eyebrows shot up. “That seems-“

“Rather totalitarian on American standards, but like I said, the stakes are different in our world.”

“So let me get this straight,” Alexander said after a pause. “All of this,” he made a flailing hand motion, “all of this happened, because you got called into the vampire equivalent of _jury duty?”_

Aaron smiled cynically. “I suppose you could put it that way.”

It sounded like the hollow laugh was punched out of Alexander. He doubled over and held his head in his hands. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Considering the company you keep, I sincerely doubt that.”

“Not the right time to shit talk my friends, Burr.”

Aaron smiled at Alex cautiously and was met with a grin that felt more authentic than any expression the man had given him for a while now. Aaron felt nearly exhilarated by how amicable the dreaded conversation had turned out to be, all things considered.

Alexander straightened up and shuddered slightly, and Aaron was back to feeling pensive. What had the Southerners _done_ to him that caused his body to ache even after over a week?

‘ _If you see him before we do, that is’,_ Madison’s voice echoed in Aaron’s mind just then.

“Since we’re being honest to each other now,” Aaron said, casually digging a speck of dirt from under his nail, “you weren’t going to go to Monticello tonight, were you?”

Alex froze. “I…” His eyes darted from Aaron's face to the bookcase, to his lap and back to Aaron’s face. “Yes.”

Aaron realized how still he had gone as well. “You have an early lecture tomorrow morning.”

Something in Alexander’s expression hardened. “I’m a grown man, I can handle my education without you mothering over me.”

Aaron cocked an eyebrow. “I rather think I have every right to voice my concerns about your education, seeing that I’m the one paying for it.”

“Oh my God,” Alexander threw his head back and groaned at the ceiling, the late night lighting casting shadows on the tendons of his neck. “If you don’t want me to go there why can’t you just say so?”

“I am merely concerned about your-“

“You know what? No. I’m not buying that.” Alexander’s face was still flushed, but otherwise all traces of coyness were gone. He spread his arms over the backrest of the sofa and slowly stretched into a lounging position with his knees deliberately apart. “You’re jealous.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes. “Is that so?”

Alexander dragged his eyes slowly and deliberately over Aaron’s frame, heavy and intimate, and gingerly nibbled at his lower lip. Aaron had been foolish to peg Alex as a passive participant in this dance of theirs. Alexander had a reputation. He could be devastating when he wanted to.

“You know what I see?” Alexander said, low and solicitous, his eyes meeting Aaron’s without flinching. “I see a man who is so used to denying himself that he doesn’t even know what he wants when he sees it.”

Alexander was winning. Aaron could feel the last tethers of his resolve straining under the weight of the blatant challenge he’d just been issued. He was right, just like Jefferson had been.

And was it truly so bad, to have this one thing after all that restraint, seeing that Alexander was so clearly offering? Who was he even doing all this _for_?

“Shame,” Alex shrugged and stood up.

Aaron’s hand landed on his shoulder and he pushed down using maybe a tenth of his strength, landing Alexander back on the sofa with a thud. “I’m pretty sure I told you to sit.”

Alexander whimpered and his fingers scrambled at the hand rest clumsily. Aaron stared down at Alex with his brows slightly furrowed.

Something was definitely off.

Sure, it was the first time Alex had gotten a demonstration of Aaron’s vampire speed and strength, not to mention his more domineering side, but that alone wasn’t enough to explain the flinch, the way his breath shuddered, or the growing bulge between his legs that the loose sweatpants were doing nothing to hide. Now that Aaron thought about it, Alexander’s movements had been slow and careful and his face had been uncharacteristically red all night; something he had registered all along, but been too preoccupied to properly attend to.

They remained still like that for a moment, Alex seated on the sofa his chest heaving slightly, gazing up at Aaron who stood in front of him, his hand still firmly on the other man’s shoulder.

Aaron cleared his throat. “Alexander… are you wearing a toy?”

 _Ah._ The look on Alexander’s face told Aaron he’d hit the nail on the head.

Alexander’s inhaled shakily and his eyes went impossibly wide for a fracture of a second, but the terror was replaced by a daring look as soon as he met Aaron’s heavy gaze.

“I am.”

“Why?”

“To stretch me out.” Alexander ran a finger lightly up Aaron’s thigh. He allowed it for the time being. “So that I can take them both at once.”

Leave it to Alexander Hamilton to somehow make Aaron feel sickened and aroused at the same time. He hummed, his expression still neutral, and finally raised his hand from Alexander’s shoulder to lift his chin with his index finger.

“I suppose that makes sense,” he said conversationally. “You’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, Alexander.”

“No, sir,” Alexander breathed with his eyes impossibly large and Jesus Christ he had to know exactly what he was doing. Aaron bit the inside of his cheek to steer his attention away from the interest his own groin was taking on the situation. All in good time, if Alexander was in control enough to be playing around, it was way too early to be getting serious.

Aaron’s light touch turned into a solid grip on Alexander’s chin. “Not to mention how insatiable you can be. Always demanding more.”

Alexander’s pupils grew even larger as he gazed up at Aaron, switching between dreamlike haziness and sharp deviancy on whim. “Like a slut?”

Aaron smiled. “Your words, not mine.”

Alex licked his lips. “I told them there was nothing between them I couldn’t take. I don’t plan on backing down on that statement.”

Aaron snorted. “Oh, I’m certain that’s true, taking is what you do very best.” He leaned in close enough to see a warped version of himself reflected in Alexander’s pupils, imposing and all-consuming. “It is restraint that you could use a bit more of.”

Alexander made a move to close the gap between their mouths just then and Aaron ached to accommodate him, felt the overwhelming need at the core of his torso and at the base of his throat as Alexander’s scent filled his nostrils, so intoxicating and so close to being _his._

 _All in good time._ Aaron pulled back just enough to keep the other man from getting what he wanted, and elicited a soft cry from Alexander’s lips. Aaron remained there, just a hair away, maintaining eye contact. “Strip.”

The slight shaking of his hands was the only giveaway of Alexander’s nerves as he reached back to pull the shirt over his head.

“You’d better make this worth my while, you know.”

Aaron didn’t reward the snark with a comment, just took a step back, folded his arms across his chest and watched. He was met with a petulant stare as the younger man braced his shoulders against the backrest of the couch and raised his hips so that he could slide the sweatpants off without standing up. Aaron’s eyes raked across the exposed light brown skin casually. Beautiful, even with all the offending marks from undeserving people. They would fix that.

(Suddenly Aaron could almost taste a hint of sweet fruit juice on his tongue. He blinked and swallowed, willing the notion away.)

Alexander was doing an admirable job of pretending he didn’t feel self-conscious, grinning up at Aaron with his arms crossed. “Now what?”

Aaron wordlessly grabbed Alexander’s shoulder again and calmly but firmly guided him to lie across the hand rest of the couch, stomach down.

“You gonna spank me now for being naughty, dadd- ahh shit!“

“Language,” Aaron chided out of habit, the base of his palm firmly pressed against the plug in Alexander’s ass. The other man grasped blindly until he got a hold of sorts from the fabric of the couch, but Aaron calmly pulled his hands behind him and held Alexander’s wrists together against the small of his back. He lightly ran a finger over the back of his thigh and observed the goosebumps that rose there.

“We’ll make a patient man of you yet.”

Alexander, quick as ever to catch on, shuddered but held his tongue. Aaron nodded to himself and tilted his head to have a closer look at the plug. The size of it was definitely… impressive. Aaron spared a fleeting thought at what else the man might have in his collection, if this sort of a toy was anything to go by. He pulled it back for just a fourth of an inch to test the fit and appreciated the way the lean muscles of Alexander’s thighs tensed up at the slight drag.

“Well, you weren’t kidding about stretching yourself out,” he said.

Alex laughed breathlessly. “No, sir. Never do.”

The treacherous claws of jealousy made a grab at Aaron’s core. _Shouldn’t do this while I’m like this._ The thought was gone as soon as it came.

He undid his belt deliberately slowly, observed how the soft click of the buckle sent shivers up Alexander’s spine. If merciless was what he wanted, Aaron could deliver. He was nothing if not adaptable.

“’Sir’ will suit us quite well, by the way,” he kept his tone casual as he slid the belt out of the loops of his pants. “Try and call me daddy again and I’ll give you a punishment you’re not panting for.”

Alexander swallowed audibly.

Aaron folded the belt and dragged it over the curve of Alexander’s backside, the touch feather-light. “Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Alexander’s shoulders were set resolutely even though his voice was strained. Aaron’s lips curled into a smile.

“Twenty strikes, you’ll count them for me. Say ‘red’ if we need to stop.” Aaron wanted to hold him down without second-guessing himself.

“Yes, sir.”

To Alexander’s credit, he didn’t shout at the first blow even though Aaron decided to introduce him to a decent portion of his strength. The obscene smack of the leather against skin, combined with Alexander’s ragged breath was the only auditory information that made its way properly into Aaron’s consciousness, the hum of the traffic outside fading into nothingness.

“One,” Alex gasped.

Aaron raised his arm and brought the belt down upon the other cheek. This time he had to apply some pressure to keep the younger man from pulling his wrists out of his grasp.

Alexander’s whole body was taunt with tension. “T-two,” he gritted out.

Satisfied with the obedience but unsatisfied with the lack of a reaction, Aaron picked up the pace. He reined strikes on Alexander’s backside and the backs of his thighs, varying the intensity and the placement pattern in order to keep the man under him from knowing what to expect.

The plug was a wonderful addition to the equation, Aaron discovered; the exploding pain caused Alexander to involuntarily clench his muscles, which evidently made the toy rub against his walls and prostate. At strike eight instead of saying a number, the man just whined needily and rutted against the armrest.

Aaron pulled him back firmly so that his cock no longer touched the fabric. “Stay still,” he chided. “I’m not buying a new couch just because of your lack of self-control. You’re not a dog.”

Alex dropped his head down and whined out something almost resembling a word.

“You haven’t given me a number, Alexander.”

“Uhh… ten.”

Aaron brought the belt down hard, exactly to the same spot as the last strike. Alexander’s whole body jerked, but Aaron held him down firmly.

“Wrong.”

A third blow to the same spot and Alex did shout out this time around.

“That, just now, was number ten. Focus, if you lose count again we’ll start over.”

“Oh,” Alex gasped, his voice thick and cracked around the edges, “God.”

Two more strikes and the first sob was finally torn out of Hamilton’s chest.

Aaron smiled, and brought the belt down to the sensitive skin at the back of his thigh, eliciting another one. The skin of Alexander’s backside and thighs was nearly crimson red now, welts forming on the most abused spots. The scent of Alexander’s blood was more pronounced and insistent now that it was nearly breaking through the skin, mixed with the thick scent of his arousal. Aaron could only imagine the bruises the following morning. He ran his tongue over the tip of his fang. Trying to retract them at this point would most likely prove useless, and it wasn’t as though Hamilton was going to notice.

“Th-thirteen,” Alexander cried.

“I think fifteen will be sufficient,” Aaron mused. “Not that I like going back on my word, but you’ll still have to be able to sit in class tomorrow.”

Alexander whined wordlessly. Aaron tapped the back of his thigh with the belt and observed amusedly how his muscles went tense and then quivered as the plug shifted. “Well, Alex? Fifteen minus thirteen, how many is that?”

The elementary school-level subtraction took Alexander about sixteen seconds to solve.

“Two,” he panted eventually between sobs.

“That’s right. Think you can do that?”

“Yes, yes, please, sir,” Alexander babbled breathlessly. Whatever he thought he would be getting for his troubles must have been exciting, if it made him find his words again.

Aaron brought the belt down hard, but not hard enough to break skin (his self-restraint just might snap like a twig at the sight of Alexander’s blood, and he needed to practice what he preached, after all). Alexander all but screamed and Aaron spared a thought at the neighbors who were hopefully not dialling 911 that very moment.

“ _Catorce,”_ Alex cried. Aaron lifted an eyebrow at the language change, but rolled with it.

The last strike landed across Alexander’s backside, purposefully hitting the plug.

“Ah! _Quince_ _!_ Fuck!”

Alexander’s hips gyrated against nothing with shaky movements. Aaron dropped the belt and ran his hand lightly against the bright red, hot skin, eliciting a hiss.

“Good, Alexander,” he said.

The praise made Alex moan and shudder, and Aaron filed the reaction away for later reference.

“Oh God, Aaron, please, please,” the other man begged hoarsely, his hips twitching.

“I think we agreed on ‘sir’ earlier did we not?” Aaron reminded him.

“I, yes, sir, please, I’ll-“

Aaron stopped the babbling by grabbing the base of the plug and twisting it, the method proving very effective for a moment. Alexander was crying again.

“Sir please, let me come, I’m so close, please,” he pleaded breathlessly.

“No.”

That seemed to take a moment to register.

“Please, I-“

Aaron tugged at the plug, out and in with quick, precise movements. Hamilton’s words turned into a broken moan.

“You’re going to go to your lecture tomorrow, and the day after that, and we’ll talk about coming once your attendance is acceptable again,” he said calmly.

Alexander’s groan was a mixture of desperation and disbelief.

“But that could take-“

“I don’t care how long it takes, Alexander,” Aaron chuckled. He released the man’s wrists from the death grip and grabbed a handful of his hair. “I am going to deny you things that you have yet to earn, Alexander.”

The man’s breath shuddered with desire and his fingers clenched and unclenched.

“Am I understood?”

If anyone could teach Alexander Hamilton the gratification in _waiting_ it was Aaron, the Southerners were too self-indulgent and lazy to ever put in the effort and care that ruining Alexander Hamilton deserved. Possessiveness curled in the pit of Aaron’s stomach like a stretching cat.

“Yes,” Alexander breathed.

“Good. Now stay still.”

Alex panted and moaned into the cushions as Aaron eased the plug out of him slowly, with an obscene squelching sound (lots of lube had clearly been involved). Alexander’s hole fluttered, gaping and wet and ready. Aaron nearly bit a wound into his lower lip. _All in good time._

He wrapped a hand around Alexander’s throat and gently but firmly guided him into an upwards kneeling position on the sofa. His face was a mess of tears and sweat, the freshness of the earlier shower long gone. The red tip of his cock was slick and dripping with precome. Alexander’s frantic pulse fluttered against Aaron’s fingers as their gazes met.

Alexander licked his lips and tilted his head back a little bit, within the confines of Aaron’s grip on his neck; an invitation. Aaron felt his resolve crumble at the face of this one last little indulgence. He leaned forward and crashed Alexander’s mouth against his.

He tasted like peppermint toothpaste and warmth and there was a faint hint of blood there too, possibly from having bit the inside of his cheek trying not to scream. Aaron licked into the warm wetness of his mouth hungrily, but this was still Alexander Hamilton so he wasn’t being met with pliant passiveness but scratching teeth and bold tongue. Aaron tightened his hand more as a reminder than as an actual attempt to cut air supply, and Alexander’s jaw went slack, allowing him uninhibited access to thrust his own tongue in. It had been awhile (a _long_ while) since he last kissed like this, but based on the noises Alexander was making, he hadn’t lost his skills in this regard. Alexander’s swollen soft lips dragged over his sweetly and a low groan escaped Aaron’s throat.

This time it was Alexander who ran his tongue over the tips of Aaron’s fangs.

“Bite me,” he breathed.

Aaron’s face was only inches from Alexander’s, he could see up close the pretty redness of his cheeks, the glistening moisture of his tear stains.

“No.”

Alexander’s head fell back and he let out a disbelieving groan. Aaron pressed down with his thumb until he lifted his head and met his gaze.

“When I bite you –and it really is a ‘when’, not an ‘if’, if that makes you feel better- it won’t be because of _them_ ,” he spat the last word. Once he'd have Alexander, he would not be scraping up Jefferson and Madison’s leftovers. Alexander wouldn’t give himself to Aaron like he gave himself to anyone strong enough to make him kneel – it would be because Aaron could do for him something no one else could. _Whatever it takes-_

Not that that was an easy call to make. Aaron’s fingers felt stiff from the need to make room for his teeth on Alexander’s jugular.

“Do you understand?”

Alexander looked at him for a while with and unreadable expression, but eventually nodded slowly.

Aaron nodded as well, satisfied. “Go to sleep, Alexander.”

He detached his hand from the other man’s neck and stepped away from the couch. He willed himself to walk to the door with calm, controlled movements despite of his arousal.

Alexander called after him with a wavering voice: “W-wait, you’re seriously not gonna-“

“No touching yourself either until your attendance it up,” Aaron called over his shoulder and exited the room.

The best part was that he knew that he could trust Alex to follow his orders. He had finally figured out what it was that both of them wanted, even though he had yet to fully claim his due.

All in good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaron “if I need to dom this stupid boy into going to school then so be it" Burr, ladies and gentlemen.
> 
> My flat doesn’t have wifi for stupid reasons so this porno was mostly brought to you by the university library, hope yall appreciate it.


	6. Blood Vessels Are Not Cleaned With Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all downhill from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More art by Jaden Daut: [x](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BxnjdC0X-BvvMWFEaHpIMHMwQ2JkZTNXekZfODEtUk9GbEtZ/view?usp=sharing) [x](https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BxnjdC0X-BvvbnNYSjNEZ3FrcTVNZ01XMVlLUzVkblVHM2VR/view?usp=sharing) (slight NSFW for the second one), I do not know what I did to deserve to be blessed like this.
> 
> Some violent imagery and blood (not the sexy kind) ahead, nothing too explicit or ‘on-screen’ though.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

The bus swerved unexpectedly to the left and a bony shoulder pressed against Aaron’s. The boy occupying the seat next to him raised a surprised eyebrow at Aaron as he processed the sudden proposal. Aaron inhaled the stale air of the packed bus as though he could that way retract those words that had fallen off his lips so impulsively. What possessed him to voluntarily socialize further with a passing mortal? Humans had probably stopped spontaneously conversing with strangers like this anyways, they felt more comfortable and secure when such things were mediated by apps and the like. But the boy -Alexander, as he had introduced himself just a few minutes ago- recovered from his surprise quickly and a sly smile slipped on his lips.

“That would be nice. Where do you get off?”

Well, in for a penny. “Mercer street.”

The boy flipped a stray strand of hair out of his mischievously sparkling eyes. “I’m in your hands.” Aaron regretted his newfound impulsivity already.

Just, something about this scrappy, coffee and ink-smelling kid had grabbed his interest. Something about the way he had recognized the book Aaron had been reading _(The Open Society and Its Enemies: The Spell of Plato, Vol 1_ by Karl Popper) without even seeing the cover, and launched into an impassioned dissertation of his thoughts on the paradox of tolerance as though he’d had a fully-fledged thesis prepared just for this occasion.

So there they were, Alexander following Aaron to a nearby bar with a cheery bounce in his step and his mouth running a mile a minute. Now it seemed more purposeful, as if he’d figured that Aaron must have been turned on by his intellect and this was some strange form of foreplay. It was rather clear where Alexander thought this interaction was headed and Aaron would have to correct that assumption at some point.

“...so seeing that intolerance is active in nature, while tolerance is passive, when you consider the equilibrium of societal forces at large it becomes apparent that intolerance needs to be counteracted deliberately, you know, because otherwise tolerance _will_ be trampled by-”

Though in order to do that he would need get a word in before sunrise.

“So you’re a Philosophy major, then?” Aaron inquired once they were both sat at the bar, Alex nursing a beer and Aaron a glass of pinot noir.

Alex cast his eyes down, his expression resembling something almost bashful. “Nah, I work at a 7-Eleven, I don’t study.”

“Not due to a lack of intelligence or drive,” Aaron said. It wasn’t a question.

Alexander chewed his lip. The tips of his ears flushed slightly. “No,” he admitted to his beer. “Don’t have the funds.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Don’t they have scholarships for people with a mind like yours?”

Alexander shrugged and took a swing of his beer. “You’re working under the assumption that America is a meritocracy,” he said as though a guy who drinks wine in a bar could never possibly understand what it was like to be held back by systematic inequality.

Burr smiled and refrained from ‘playing the slavery card’, as the kids these days would say. Alexander wouldn’t understand anyways. “Far from it.”

There was a notion, at the back of Aaron’s mind, which became even more difficult to ignore now that an unprecedented silence fell between them for a moment. Something dangerous, and rash, and entirely uncharacteristic of him.

There was a TV at the end of the bar. Must have been a slow sports season since it was playing the evening news instead of some game. Aaron pointed to the senator who was currently being interviewed about some bill or another. “So that’s what vampires look like, huh?” he said lightly and used his hard earned skills of covert observation in gauging Alexander’s reaction without openly looking his way.

Alexander snorted. “Yeah, he and every generic-looking actor and crusty CEO in Washington DC. People really lack imagination these days.”

Aaron smirked. “You’re not buying the theory, then?”

Alexander twirled the end of his ponytail absentmindedly between his fingers. “Do I think the top one percent of society are all soulless bloodsucking monsters? Absolutely, I thought that was common knowledge.”

Aaron chuckled and raised his glass to a small ironic toast.

“But do I think they all sleep in coffins and burn in sunlight? Nah. I mean, it wasn’t even a very good meme, that’s why it fizzled out so quickly. It was funny he had to actually publically address it, though. Like Ted Cruz the Zodiac Killer all over again.”

Aaron hummed and examined the fingerprints on his wine glass. “Fair enough.”

“Besides, it doesn’t make sense even if you humor it,” Alexander said casually. “Why would immortal beings settle for accumulating power and fame in human’s terms? We would just come and go around them in an endless, meaningless stream so impressing us would hardly matter to them, right? Wouldn’t they have like a society of their own, where they can meaningfully dominate others with money and politics?”

Aaron kept his expression carefully neutral even as the base of his spine stiffened under his suit jacket. _There it is._

He extended his arm to uncover his wristwatch.  He’d have about half an hour until he was supposed to meet his blood guy at the hospital.

Alexander smirked at him sideways. “I thought only old men and rich assholes wear watches these days. Phones have kinda made them obsolete, except as status symbols.”

Aaron shrugged and swirled his wine glass absentmindedly. If he actually were to do what he was considering doing for some godforsaken reason, which would surprise and horrify Alexander more: the blood sucking-part of the not having a cellphone-part?

“I suppose I can be a tad old fashioned at times,” he said.

Alexander’s hair must have been at that awkward length where it’s overgrown, but not long enough to stay in a ponytail; he flipped it out of his eyes again to look at Aaron properly. The movement sent another waft of his scent Aaron’s way, and he finally allowed himself to tentatively note the warm undertones below the coffee and ink and rotting leaves.

During his earlier spiel on Popper’s philosophy the boy had said something about the equilibrium of societal forces at large. Frankly Aaron had always felt somewhat uncomfortable with supporting the black blood marked run by the underbelly of the public healthcare sector, but it wasn’t as though there was a viable alternative.

Alexander had moved on to talking about something on the news, gesturing animatedly. Aaron kept a watchful eye on the beer pint that sat dangerously within the range of his swinging arms. If he could figure out an alternative source of sustenance, and at the same time help out someone who clearly deserved a shot at upwards mobility…

Alexander stilled suddenly and tilted his head. Aaron must have been staring. “We could just take this to your place, you know,” he said and traced the edge of his pint with his index finger.

Aaron smiled. Something inexplicable must have come over him indeed.

“Why not? I have nowhere to be.”

 

* * *

 

As far as liquids go, juice is the worst one for quenching a thirst. Aaron drank and drank, his nose pressed against the soft, paper thin skin on the back of Alexander's delicate neck. He held that rapid, flickering pulse between his jaws and reveled in how sweetly Alexander buckled under him. Maybe if he kept drinking until even the bone marrow was gone he would finally be rid of this burning thirst at the back of his throat, at the pit of his stomach, simmering low in his chest.

Those were the thoughts that told Aaron it was past the time to stop, more than the feeling of being full itself (he was surprised he even recognized the sensation after all these years).

Aaron followed the curve of the neck with the flat of his tongue, lapped up any excess blood. He hummed, low and satisfied, buried his nose into Alexander’s hair and inhaled deeply.

“Aaron?”

Alexander usually forgot about the ‘sir’, and even ‘Burr’ when they reached this level of intimacy. Aaron suspended himself onto his arms and looked at Alexander, sprawled under him, chest falling and rising heavily and fingers twitching as though he wanted to touch Aaron but wasn’t sure if he was allowed to. Tear stains on his cheeks and stray droplets of blood on the sheets. Aaron’s bedsheets.

A very bad idea, doing this in Aaron’s bedroom. He would have to burn the sheets and get a new mattress in all likeliness, if he ever wanted to sleep in here again. What was it about Alexander that stilted his ability to _know better?_

“Is something wrong?” The euphoric bliss of having his blood sucked was making way for apprehension on Alexander’s face. His gaze darted wildly across Aaron’s features.

Aaron made himself smile. “Not at all. Let me clean off the wound.”

He made a move to stand up but Alexander’s fingers wrapped around his biceps with all their human strength. “Wait.” Aaron raised an eyebrow but stilled.

Alexander rubbed at Aaron’s arms with almost soothing motions, guided him to sit on the edge of the bed and slipped onto the floor himself, slotted his body between Aaron’s legs.

“Alexander-”

“Please,” he sighed and gazed up at Aaron in that tantalizing way Aaron was till shamefully bad at resisting. Then he nuzzled his cheek against Aaron’s inner thigh like a cat. Aaron chewed the inside of his cheek to draw his attention away from the temptation. That was another thing about drinking Alexander’s blood; even when it sated one kind of a hunger, it initiated another.

“Please, I don’t even have to come, I can wait a bit longer,” Alexander mouthed against the outline of Aaron’s shaft through his boxers and pants. Aaron felt the warmth and moistness of that clever, greedy mouth even through the two layers of fabric.  “Just let me make this good for you.”

Aaron’s fingers traced the line of Alexander’s jaw and raised his chin up. He looked good from this angle, as always, looking up at Aaron through his fluttering eyelashes clumped together by tears. There was no time to get drawn into this however; the sun would rise in an hour or so.  

“You always do,” Aaron said softly and caressed the outline of Alexander’s lower lip with his thumb. Judging from the way Alexander’s eyes widened his tone may have betrayed more gentleness that he had intended.

Aaron stood up and made it for the door. Alexander jumped up thoughtlessly to chase him and Aaron could tell from the way his pupils lost focus that his eyesight went black for a moment. He stumbled on his feet and Aaron took a hold of his shirt and pushed the man onto the bed.

“Your blood levels are off. Stay.”

Whether Alexander obeyed because his head was still spinning from the rash movement or because Aaron had utilized that certain tone that tended to work in situations like these, it was hard to say. He huffed and drew his knees to his chest and Aaron left the room uninhibited.

Even though it was still dark outside the approaching sunrise combined with being unusually full weighed down on Aaron’s limbs like a heavy quilt. He had to make a conscious effort to fight the primal compulsion to turn on his heels, crawl under his blankets and fall asleep for the day as he fetched a can of soda from the kitchen and the first aid kit from the bathroom.

Alex hadn’t moved from his sitting position when Aaron returned. Even as the antiseptic wipe made contact with the fresh would (purposeful and accurate, like a snake bite), the corners of Alexander’s mouth stiffened from the sting but he kept his eyes fixed on the upper left corner of the room. _Well then._ The corners of Aaron’s mouth twitched because of the silent treatment. How the man managed to be so contradictory, so beyond the usual capacity for his age in some respects and so childish in others, kept astounding Aaron time after time.

Some blood had trickled into Alexander’s hair and caked there, something the first aid kit wasn’t equipped to deal with. Aaron thought of taking Alexander to the shower and scrubbing him all over the way he’d scrubbed every surface of their apartment during those few months they’d been in an impasse. He thought of Alexander soaking wet and shivering and desperate and begging. It would be easy to bite down and let the running water take care of the aftermath-

For Christ’s sake. Aaron was full -would remain so for weeks- and tired, why was he having these thoughts? How did Alexander manage be so satisfying and yet at the same time leave such a craving? Perhaps it was that _smell,_ Aaron had deliberately stopped breathing a while ago but he could still feel it settling into his pores, clinging to every surface in the room. God, he should have had the foresight to keep his bedroom at least free of this.

With the wound cleaned and dressed Aaron snapped the first aid kit shut and stood up.

“Why don’t you stay here and rest as long as you need?” Aaron said. Alexander’s eyes finally snapped to his, wide and questioning.

“I’ll sleep in your room for the day if that’s fine with you,” Aaron continued and the man seemed to deflate a little.

“Can’t you-”

“Make sure you drink the soda, you’ll need to be in fighting shape for tomorrow’s test,” Aaron cut him off. He knew what Alexander wanted of course. Couldn’t let him ask for it at the off chance he might say yes. Being doused in this smell, having Alexander’s lithe form pressed against his as he lost his iron grip on his consciousness-

It was just too dangerous.

“I’ll be nearby if you need anything at all,” Aaron said and left the room without looking back. He didn’t inhale again until there was a wall and two closed doors between them. Alexander’s bedsheets smelled like him as well of course, but this wasn’t just the raw, unadulterated smell of his blood, it was subdued by the smell of his shampoo and laundry detergent and aftershave. This Aaron could deal with. He even allowed himself a deep inhale of the familiar, comforting aroma as he slowly drifted to sleep.

 

* * *

 

A bloody handprint on the wall wasn’t exactly in the top ten of things Aaron wished to come home to.

If it were Alexander’s blood he would have known immediately, but that did little to ease the tension taking hold of Aaron’s body. No, the thing that sent of jolt of dread through him was that the blood wasn’t just old and dried up - it was dead.

So either some woman had had a horrible, abrupt miscarriage in the stairway of their apartment building or, more likely-

Thankfully there was no one around so Aaron didn’t have to slow down to human speed to reach the fourth floor. His heart sank even further down to his gut as he saw another smudge of blood on their doorframe.

As soon as he unlocked the door Greg shot out and disappeared into the stairs. Aaron swallowed and stepped in slowly. The smell hit him with full force; very faintly familiar blood, and something foul and acidic and old. He followed it to the living room his fangs drawn out and the sleeve of his jacket pressed against his nose. In hindsight, perhaps he ought to have made sure there were some weapons in the house. Well, too late to dwell on it.

Aaron paused in the living room doorway; he needed a moment to process the scene. There was a woman on the sofa, who Aaron recognized as Maria Lewis, James Reynold’s human - mostly based on her hair and body shape as her face was rather mangled up, the left eye swollen shut and her lower lip split. But most notably, her upper torso was drenched in blood - it reminded Aaron of the time Alex had made him watch the Kill Bills and he’d laughed at how ridiculously over the top the blood special effects had been. The blood she was covered in was the same dead blood Aaron had smelled in the hallway - it didn’t take a genius to figure out whose it was.

And then there was Alexander, kneeling on the floor in front of her and talking to her in a soft, soothing tone as he tried to rub off some of the blood with a t-shirt drenched with warm water. Maria noticed Aaron first and flinched. Alex followed her gaze and sprung up.

“Aaron!” Alexander stumbled on his feet and ran up to him. As soon as he was close enough Aaron grabbed his shoulders and inspected him closely for any signs of injury. Alexander’s hands were covered in blood as well and there was a smudge of it on his forehead, probably from having pushed his hair back, but it was all either Maria’s or Reynolds’. The tension in Aaron’s shoulders eased for a fraction.

“What is this?” he questioned with a lowered voice.

Alexander’s eyes were wide and nervous and he shifted on his feet like he was filled with anxious energy and had nothing to use it on. “Maria killed Reynolds,” he said, also with a lowered voice.

Aaron glanced at the woman in their living room. She touched her lip tentatively and flinched, but even then there was a distant, slightly puzzled look in her eyes. Aaron grabbed Alexander’s arm and pulled him into the kitchen.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Alex glanced back into the general direction of the living room and swayed on his soles nervously. “From what I gathered, she waited until he was in deep sleep and managed to tie him into the bed and- and cut out his heart. Serves that monster right.”

Aaron closed his eyes and counted to ten.

“She can stay in my room,” Alex started to babble nervously. “Reynolds kept her so severed from the outside world that getting a job for her won’t be easy, but if I talk to-”

“She can’t stay,” Aaron said. This wouldn’t be pretty.

Alexander’s mouth was slack, his lips slightly parted. “What?”

“She can’t stay,” Aaron repeated. “It’s too dangerous.”

As usual Alexander slipped from confusion to burning anger as easily as from one jacket to another. He took two steps closer to Aaron and his hands curled into fists. “Reynolds is dead,” he said with a tight voice.

Aaron already wanted to snap at Alexander for not just listening to him for once, but forced himself to retain his composure. “I sincerely doubt that,” he said and met Alexander’s accusing gaze steadily. “You don’t know what it takes to actually kill one of us, especially someone as old as Reynolds. And even _if_ she had succeeded, he has friends. Someone will come for her, Alexander, you don’t understand-”

“What I don’t understand,” Alexander hissed, “is how you can be so fucking selfish. She has nowhere to go because Reynolds cut her off from her friends and family, she needs help!”

Aaron took a step towards Alexander and they glared at each other nearly chest to chest. “I’m being realistic, and you would see that if you understood the weight of the situation. I’m sure Maria knew the risks when she made the choice to attack him.”

Alexander barked out a disbelieving, humorless laugh. “That’s bullshit, Burr. I begged you to help her ages ago, and what was it that you said again? ‘We can’t make her leave, Alex, it has to be her own choice’.” He looked Aaron up and down, disgust evident in his expression. “Didn’t realize the end of that statement was ‘but even if she does we’ll do fuck all to help her out’.”

Aaron closed his eyes and counted to ten again. “Throw a hissyfit if you want to, the answer is no.”

Alexander unclenched and clenched his hands. “Why?”

“I already told you it’s-”

“Because you don’t want her?”

Aaron blinked. “What?”

“I’m not stupid, Burr!” Alexander’s voice grew rougher and louder. “This,” he gestured wildly between them, “this happened because you wanted me and Jefferson and Madison took me first.”

Aaron inhaled deeply and gripped his wrist tightly behind his back. “That’s not true.”

“Some mystery benefactor pays our rent, you get all angry and storm off to Monticello no doubt, and come back and suddenly go all Christian Gray on my ass. Don’t treat me like I’m too fucking dense to understand what happened, Aaron,” Alexander snarled.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed. “That’s neither here or there. If you have a grievance with the way I treat you, which you rather clearly do not, might I add, going on the way you _beg_ for it,” Aaron ignored the way Alexander flinched here, “then by all means, let me know. But don’t bring this into a discussion concerning both of our safety.”

Alexander drew in a deep, shaky breath. “My point is that if you wanted to fuck her, or drink from her, you would all of a sudden no longer have a problem with angering someone old and powerful. You like to act all high and mighty but at the end of the day your precious principles are just as easily swayed by what you want as with the rest of us.” Alex poked at Aaron’s chest. “All I want is for you to take a fucking stand that has actual consequences.”

There was something cold under the white hot rage in Alexander’s expression now. “But I know you won’t. It’s pathetic.”

The force of belief behind those words hit Aaron harder than he expected. Helplessness churned in the pit of his stomach and an apology attempted to claw its way up his windpipe, unsuccessfully. Apologizing would have made it real, would have made it a fair judgement of Aaron’s moral character, and then what would Alexander do? One unexpected catalyst and he was slipping away from Aaron’s grasp. Should he give Alexander the praise and affection he so clearly craved, fell on his knees and begged for, or should he snap into the dominant role and claim control over him like it had always belonged to him? Was this how the Southerners had so easily kept Alexander coming back to them, knowing somehow at all times whether to break him with affection or with pain? Aaron didn’t _know_ how to make Alexander need him, how to hold onto him hard enough to keep him there but not hard enough to leave him hurting like he clearly was now.

Aaron voiced none of these thoughts, of course. He could feel the cold, plastic expression of neutrality on his face. Mending whatever rift had appeared between them without Aaron even realizing would have to wait - none of it would matter if Reynolds came back for revenge and ended Alex too for helping Maria. Alex would have to see Aaron’s side of things, eventually.

“I’m going to get Maria some clothes that are not drenched in blood and you will help her take a shower,” Aaron said with the sternest voice he could muster. “And then we will drive her to a hospital, and then to a shelter. There are ones that know how to handle people in… situations like hers.”

Alex wasn’t looking at Aaron anymore; his eyes were fixed on the tiles above the sink. Aaron thought of reaching for him, but he probably wouldn’t let him, and Aaron didn’t think he could take that on top of the harsh words that had just been hurled at him.

He walked out of the apartment without another word. Truthfully Maria probably could have just worn something of Alex’s or even Aaron’s, but Aaron needed to breathe some air that wasn’t tainted by the stench of dead blood and Alexander’s loss of respect for him.

Thankfully, he did feel significantly calmer when he pulled up to the parking lot with a bag of haphazardly chosen Target clothes thrown on the seat next to him. Below all his passion Alexander was intelligent and had a strategic, tactical mind. Aaron had been wrong to dismiss his very much warranted worry over the wellbeing of his friend - he had set himself up for failure by acting as though he didn’t care for this woman in a horrible circumstance.

They would talk this out, think over their options collaboratively and find a solution everyone could settle for.

What a pleasant, short-lived period of inner balance. As soon as Aaron opened the door he knew the apartment was empty. He walked through the rooms like a robot regardless to check they were empty, really just to childishly avoid reading the note scribbled onto the back of a receipt on the kitchen counter.

He picked it up gingerly and his eyes traced the curves of Alexander’s sloppy handwriting. _Goodbye, Aaron. Don’t look for us -A_

There was also an ‘s’ that had been smudged over, like Alexander had decided he wasn’t really sorry in the middle of writing it.

And why should he be? He had been right. Aaron had told- he had told himself that he didn’t believe in _kept humans,_ that he wouldn’t try and control Alexander the way the Virginians had - and then proceeded to do exactly that.

Aaron dropped into a chair and stared blankly at the spot where Alexander had stood just a while ago.

He could, rather easily, trace them down and somehow persuade Alexander to come back, but did he have any right to? Perhaps this disappearing act at its core wasn’t any more about protecting Maria as their earlier shouting match in the kitchen had been. Maybe Alexander had seen an opportunity to shake himself free of Aaron and taken it. Or perhaps, even worse, he had looked at Maria and seen some part of himself in her. Alexander had, after all, waited until Aaron was out of the apartment as though he had been afraid Aaron might not have let him leave. Disgust twisted in Aaron’s gut and his mouth seemed to turn sour.

Now what? Alexander was out there, vulnerable, and not only because of Reynolds. If Jefferson and Madison were to find out that Alexander had left Aaron and was in a dangerous, delicate situation-

 _He's probably on his way to them right now,_ whispered a petty, jealous voice at the back of his mind. The receipt Aaron was holding suddenly crumbled up into a ball.

No. That wouldn’t be Alexander’s first move, he told himself firmly. Alexander wouldn’t leave one manipulative vampire just to crawl into the lap of another. Especially not when Maria needed to be kept as far away from their kind as possible.

This particular line of thought did lead to a formulation of a plan in Aaron’s mind however. He couldn’t seek Alexander out without proving him right about the whole control-thing, but if he situated himself in a way that would enable him to keep an eye out for any developments...

Formulating a plan of action made Aaron feel marginally better, even as the hollow sense of loss threatened to make a nest inside of his chest. Alexander was gone and he only had his damn self to blame.

He might allow himself to feel it properly once damage control would be done with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 things: this took me disgustingly long because I had to learn 4 courses worth of material in two weeks for the exams (don’t work on top of uni if you can avoid it kids), and I also had to rewrite this so. Many. Times. To make it not suck.
> 
> Secondly, you may have observed that this isn’t the last chapter as was advertised. That’s because I couldn’t figure out how to end it here without leaving everything disgustingly underdeveloped. So yeah, a 3-chapter long part III is happening. Sorry about the lies and the deceit.


	7. You Can’t Get Blood Out of a Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Maria Reynolds Did Nothing Wrong (and neither did Alex in this instance)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more abuse and recovery-subtext ahead, take care. Also a really vague allusion to suicide but like, blink and you'll miss it.

 PART III

 

The dream slipped out of Alexander’s mind as soon as his eyes snapped open. What remained was the sensation of heavy and insistent hands and imposing gazes sweeping across his skin, on his neck and his hips and his hair. The tousled sheets curled around his limbs and the rough, slightly damp cotton clung to his body as if even that was mimicking the particular, unyielding way they would put their hands on him.

Vampires and their meaningless contracts and meaningless promises _(oh, just a little quid pro quo),_ only there to create an illusion of reciprocity when they took what they wanted, whether it was taking him apart or putting him together _(we’ll make a patient man of you yet)_ it was all for their benefit and if he wanted to appease them, if he wanted to be seen he had to-

_Please, sirs, more, please…_

Bile rose up Alexander’s throat and it all seemed to come to him at once, all jumbled up and too much to fit into his head at once _(what a good boy you can be, Alexander, what do you want, Alexander),_ the blackness of Jefferson’s pupils being the only fixed point as everything went blurry with tears _(things you have yet to earn),_ Burr standing in their living room looking down at him like he was something Burr just couldn’t quite figure a way around _(I rather think I have every right),_ like Alexander made him feel reckless and proud and just a little bit reverent. The images kept superimposing on each other, those gazes and touches and ugly intentions staining his skin more permanently than any of the scars ever had.

And then in the middle of it all - soft, small hands rubbing gentle circles into his arms and wrapping around his chest. Maria. Maria was in the bed too, the one they shared in Lafayette’s spare guestroom. Her body was pressed lightly against Alexander’s back and Greg was curled against his feet at the end of the bed.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” she murmured soothingly. The pillowcase was wet, Alex realized.

Even more shame welled up in his chest. Maria was the one who had lived on her tiptoes for years, not to mention the violence she’d had to commit only to escape into having nothing. And there she was, comforting Alex like he was the one who deserved to have his hair petted.

“I begged, Maria,” he choked out. His breathing wouldn’t even out no matter how hard he tried. “I _liked_ it, I-”

“They’ve had centuries to learn how to make you like it, Alex, it’s not your fault,” she said quietly. Her fingers carded through his hair soothingly, her hand instinctively steering clear of the back of his neck. “They were older and stronger and more powerful, it was their responsibility to control themselves. To know better.” Her voice was getting thick as well. “Your _kinks_ or whatever don’t justify treating you like a thing.”

She’d been reading a lot lately, books and online resources, whatever she could get her hands on. If there was a manual specifically for recovering from a vampire they had yet to find it, but things like psychological control and violence weren’t exactly exclusive to mythical beings. Reading seemed to be really helping her, even though the words never quite penetrated Alexander's skin.

The shaking of his shoulders started to finally subside. He placed his hand over Maria’s and squeezed.

Some things he could never bring himself to say out loud, even to her. Like how there were days when all it would have taken was a single text, half a word of affection from Burr and he would have gone back. It felt like a betrayal, missing Burr like he did. But Burr hadn’t tried to contact Alex in any way so it hardly mattered.

“We are not things,” Maria said softly against Alexander’s shoulder blade.

“We are not things,” Alex repeated to the wall. The morning sun was pushing in between the blinds. When was the last time he had slept for so long?

He cleared his throat. “Coffee?”

“God, yes.”

Alex pushed himself off the mattress, stretched his stiff limbs with a groan, and patted into the kitchen. Lafayette, bless his soul, had left out croissants before leaving for work. Once Alex figured out a steady source of income he would really have to find some way of repaying his friend for taking them in no questions asked, and letting them stay for over a month now without pushing for explanations. Not that the Frenchman was tight on money or anything, Alex just resented feeling like he was always depending on someone just to get by.

He owed the world to his friends, really. Hercules and John had happily dropped at his and Burr’s apartment and picked up the rest of Alexander’s things - he had only grabbed his laptop and wallet that day he’d ushered Maria out of the apartment. Apparently it had gone without a hitch, or at least they hadn’t said anything about how Aaron had reacted. Alex hadn’t asked, either.

Greg, who had followed Alexander and Maria to Lafayette’s apartment unprompted, rubbed against Alexander’s legs and meowed needily as he worked the coffee machine. “Shut up dude,” Alex cooed at him. “You and I both know Lafayette overfeeds you as it is, don’t get greedy.”

He decided to dedicate the day to some heavy duty essay-writing, had realized it tended to help on the days that followed nightmares. Alex hadn’t been kicked out of college yet. He still had the semester before tuition fees would become an issue, and he was determined to make the best of it. Perhaps he could have another shot at a scholarship if he did well enough or something. He didn’t think about it too hard; giving in to the feeling of having everything ripped away just as he’d gotten a taste of what his full potential might look like just might crush him. There was no time for that. Maria would start to work as soon as they’d find an entry-level position that wouldn’t require her to leave the house when it was dark outside.

They were surviving on day to day basis and that had to be enough.

 

* * *

 

The street lights were flickering on by the time Alex left the library. He cursed himself for losing track of time while writing again. Lafayette was out in one function or another and Maria didn’t like being alone in the house when it was dark. Not that she ever said that outright, Alex had just gathered it from the anxious texts and the relieved exhale she’d let out whenever Alex came home late.

He squeezed his way into the packed subway car, lodged between a group of clueless European tourists and a pack of suits conversing loudly about the stock exchange. He stood facing the window and attempted to mentally block out the noise while he played with his phone.

It was the familiar cologne that caused the hairs at the back of his neck to stand up before his mind even registered the presence of another body standing right behind him.

“Long time no see, Alexander,” said a familiar voice by his temple. “Did you miss me?”

Alex had to remind himself to breathe. The surge of adrenaline through his bloodstream, aided by his rapidly beating heart, was practically audible in his ears. Except that was a ridiculous notion, wasn’t it? He couldn’t think.

“Jefferson,” he managed. At least his voice didn’t come out as small as he felt.

Jefferson tutted. “Still no manners I see. Whatever would Burr say?”

 _He’s gauging for a reaction, don’t give him a-_ But just standing there silently would also give away too much. God, if only he had any idea how much Jefferson _knew._  “Why are you here?” Alex said, his voice flat. “Did your chauffeurs riot or something?”

Jefferson stood so close Alex could feel the way he loomed over him even without any physical contact. The setting was too familiar for comfort and Alex had to make a conscious effort to keep himself from squirming uncomfortably.

“Frankly, your smell is the only thing that’s keeping me from retching right now, I clearly wasn’t missing out,” Jefferson said.

“Why don’t you piss off then?”

“Aww don’t be like that.” The train chose that exact moment to jolt unexpectedly. It sent Alex stumbling backwards against Jefferson’s broad chest. He straightened up clumsily and resented how his face burned at the slight contact. “This setting has its charm doesn’t it? You did always strike me as the type that would get a kick out of exhibitionism.”

Alex glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention to them, but the people around seemed preoccupied with talking to each other or arguing over maps, and Jefferson’s height kept him hidden from the view of other passengers. He bit down to his lower lip and weighed the pros and cons of making a scene.

Admittedly, he was curious - there had to be some substantial reason Jefferson would go through the trouble of seeking him out like this, something that had never happened even back then they’d been- before.

Jefferson’s long fingers carded lightly through Alexander’s ponytail and his shoulders shot up close to his ears.

“Your hair’s gotten longer,” Jefferson muttered almost absentmindedly.

“Yeah, a funny human thing that,” Alex shot back. Or was it? He blinked mutely in contemplation. If a vampire shaved its head was it an irreversible decision? Did that happen to Burr? The guy had had a crisp, immaculate close shave as long as he’s known him but Alex had never seen him maintain it in any way.

This was not a helpful tangent to be thinking about. God knows he wouldn’t ask Jefferson, like they were some kind of talking buddies all of a sudden.

“It suits you,” Jefferson said. Alex could hear the smile in his voice. “Makes it easier to pull, I’d imagine.”

Right. Even Jefferson could surely see the way Alex was blushing now, on his neck and the tips of his ears. A wave of frustration washed over him and along it, determination.

He was no longer that naive, easy-to-work-up person who had stumbled into Monticello in what felt like a lifetime ago. This was a game he had learned to pay, partly all thanks to the man behind him. He was a quick learner. He had leverage and he knew how to use it.

And whether Burr would like it or not was inconsequential. Burr wasn’t there.

Alex swallowed down his inexplicable sense of shame, stretched his neck, groaned quietly and turned his head to the side so that Jefferson could see the slight smile on his lips. “I see you still perpetually have your mind in the gutter, sir.”

He leaned back, deliberately this time, nearly pressing against Jefferson but not quite. “Do you think about it a lot, then?” he asked quietly. The perks of vampire hearing - not having to dirty talk loudly over the bustling of the subway. “Been thinking about the way you’d pull my hair and make me cry?”

The hand in his ponytail seemed to tighten. “Don’t flatter yourself too much Alexander, I’m not exactly lacking in slutty humans to play with,” he said and slipped a hand under Alexander’s jacket. His fingertips brushed lightly up and down his side. Alex shuddered.

“That’s real cute but I’d like to see you tell me in earnest you’ve had someone as tasty as me,” he said breathily as Jefferson’s index finger traced his nipple over his thin worn-out t-shirt.

Jefferson pressed his nose to his temple and inhaled deeply. “You are tasty, I’ll give you that,” he muttered.

Alex resented the way Jefferson’s fingers pinching and rubbing his nipple alone were accelerating his breathing, like no time had passed at all. At this rate he really would pop a boner on public transport, and based on the slight hardness pressing against his backside, he wasn’t the only one. Damn Jefferson to hell with his expensive cologne and his slender, clever fingers. He ground back slightly and Jefferson made an approving noise.

“Careful now, or I might take it upon myself to teach you some manners concerning how to conduct yourself in public.”

Alex pressed the back of his head against Jefferson’s sounder and swayed his hips slowly. “And what makes you think I’ll ever let you touch me again?”

Jefferson’s thumbnail dug into his nipple and Alex bit his lip to stop himself from gasping loudly.

“Look at you,” he drawled. “Already panting for it.”

“You wish,” Alex sighed.

Jefferson chuckled. “Sure, let’s say you’re not. What you want is more, nevertheless. More than this filthy subway car, more than these scrappy clothes you unearthed in some second hand shop no doubt. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not, these clothes are from Goodwill. Goodwill is awesome.”

Alexander’s breath caught as Jefferson’s hand slid across his stomach, down to the waistline of his jeans.

“A pretty thing like you should be dressed up in furs and silk and gold,” Jefferson mouthed against his earlobe and ran his finger along the waistline.

Alex pushed himself off Jefferson’s body, spun around and held his arm against his chest. It didn’t do much in terms of creating distance between them, but at least they weren’t pressed against each other anymore.

He glared up at Jefferson’s dark eyes coldly. “See the problem is that I’m not a fucking ‘thing’,” he said. He grabbed Jefferson’s collar and yanked until their eyes were leveled. “And you don’t have a damn thing that I need, or want.”

Alex let go of the collar like he was eager to terminate the physical contact and leaned back as much as he could. Jefferson straightened up slowly and raised an eyebrow.

“Is that so?” he said.

“Yup. See you never.” The subway slowed to a halt and Alex made a move to leave with the other passengers.

Jefferson didn’t budge. “I suppose you’ll be able to deal with Reynolds yourself, then.”

Alexander’s blood turned into ice. He turned to look at Jefferson, who was watching his face with an unreadable expression.

“What about him? I haven’t seen him in like a year.” _Lie better, damnit._

Jefferson rolled his eyes. “It’ll save us some time if you just drop the act.”

Alex closed his eyes. “Reynolds is dead,” he said like speaking it would bring it into existence.

Jefferson chuckled. “He definitely looks worse for wear, been awhile since I’ve seen a human do that much damage to someone his age. Pretty impressive, really.”

“But his _heart-“_

“Who needs a heart?” Jefferson shrugged. “With a metabolism as slow as ours it only beats, like, once a week. Plenty of time to work something out.”

Alex felt like retching but he hadn’t eaten in hours so nothing was coming up. He dug out his phone with shaky, clumsy movements. His fingers hovered over Maria’s contact. But what if she was hiding from Reynolds at the very moment and he would give her location away by calling her? Lafayette was out of the house. If Alex called him he would go home, but would he then just doom his friend to die as well?

He fell mutely into a recently vacated seat and stared at his phone blankly, tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

“If it’s any consolation,” Jefferson said, “he didn’t know she was with you when he came asking around.”

Alex fixed his eyes on a piece on unintelligible graffiti on the opposite wall. “How did you know, then?” he asked.

He could see Jefferson wave his hand dismissively from the periphery of his vision. “Connections, it doesn’t matter.”

“Why are you here?” Alex asked. Since they’d passed the central hot spots the subway was nearly empty now save for a few other people lingering out of ear shot.

Jefferson moved to stand in front of Alexander, hands in his pockets. “You need protection, Alexander. And so does your friend.”

Alex squeezed his eyes shut and forced the tears back, and then glared up and Jefferson. “And why the fuck would I trust you to do that?”

Another shrug. “I don’t give a damn whether you do or not. You could always go to Burr if you wanted to, right?”

Alex cast his eyes down bitterly. The mere thought of approaching Burr after- he just couldn’t. And Burr wouldn’t help them even if he did; he’d made his stance clear the first time around.

Jefferson’s fingertips traced the outline of his jawline. The mocking imitation of intimacy made Alexander’s skin crawl.

The circumstance felt like a set of shackles snapping around his wrists and neck, but he couldn’t give into the feeling of helplessness. Leverage. He had that.

Alex swatted the hand away and stood up. Jefferson met his cold stare without flinching, as always.

“Fine. Let’s talk,” he said.

And Jefferson smiled.

They got off at the next stop and as soon as they were close enough to ground level to have service, Alex stood out of Jefferson’s earshot (or so he hoped, at least) and dialed Maria’s number. If he wanted to pull this off, he would just have to trust Jefferson was telling the truth when he said Reynolds didn’t know that Maria had come to him yet. That they had some time, a few days at least. It was a crucial aspect of the plan and something entirely too important to be hanging on Jefferson’s word, but it couldn’t be helped.

Maria picked up after two rings and a fracture of the tension in Alexander’s shoulders eased.

“You’re out late,” she said. “Getting much writing done?”

“Yeah, I am,” he said casually. “Actually, and I’m really sorry about this, but I realized I have a deadline I forgot about in two days, so I’m really gonna have to pull an all-nighter.”

“Oh,” Maria said.

“So, uh yeah. Don’t wait up, order yourself a tuna pizza or something.” That was their code for ‘pack your things but stay put’.

The other end of the line went quiet for a moment. “Alright.”

“Sorry again,” Alex said.

“Nah, do what you gotta do,” Maria’s voice was that particular brand of casual that meant she was trying to stop herself from slipping into a panic attack. Alexander’s stomach twisted. “Should I get it with prawns too?” That one meant ‘are you in physical danger?’

Alex forced himself to laugh. “Nah, that shit is disgusting. I mean eat what you wanna, but c’mon.”

“Snob. Well I’ll let you get back to writing. Take care.”

“You take care too. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Alex tried keep his tone conversational, but surely the sentiment was coming across. The ended the call and exhaled. Now all he could do was hope that Maria wouldn’t panic and bounce, or worse.

He also shot Laf a text, asking him to go home as soon as he could. Another life hanging on Jefferson’s word, but someone needed to be there with Maria. _Breathe._

Jefferson looked at his watch pointedly when Alex walked back to him but otherwise, miraculously, kept his comments to himself. As soon as they emerged from the subway tunnel Jefferson set his hand on the small of Alexander’s back and guided to a black SUV conveniently parked right by the entrance. Alex gulped down the dread blocking his throat.

Madison was already seated on the backseat, his legs crossed.

“Alexander,” he nodded his way without looking up from his phone. “Are we picking up your friend on the way?”

“I’m not telling you where she is,” he said coldly.

Madison shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He knocked twice on the partition and the car slid into motion.

Alexander resisted the urge to twiddle with his hands nervously as he sat on the pristine leather seat opposite from the Southerners. The passing urban landscapes weren’t much of a distraction with the darkened windows. He looked down at his hands crossed on his lap and his eyes found the little mark on his index finger. It wasn’t even a scar per se, just a little strip of skin that was newer than the rest and thus slightly discolored.

_Burr’s black eyes watching him intently as his lips wrapped around his index finger, his mouth warm and wet, the fond amusement in his face as Alex wrapped his legs tighter around his waist and sighed blissfully when his teeth-_

No. Bad tangent. Alex had always sucked at stopping his mind when it got going like this. He hoped he wasn’t visibly blushing, at least. Perhaps getting his mind off the current situation was a bad idea, after all.

The last time he had agreed to ‘negotiate’ with these two all they had done was take and take some more. Would this time around really be any different? He felt Jefferson’s eyes sweep across his frame even without looking.

 _Burn that bridge when you get to it,_ he reminded himself. What did he have to lose, anyways? A college career with an expiration date? A living entirely consisting of freeloading? _A sense of agency and ownership over your body and mind,_ said a small, unhelpful voice at the back of his head. Alex bit down to his lip and suppressed it.

Maybe saving Maria was the best thing he could aspire to, in the end. If he could pull this one thing off without fucking up like he always seemed to, it would have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it’s unclear Maria and Alex are not together romantically, they just need to be held. This ch was tonally incongruent af but we got places to be.
> 
> Comments fuel me on this hellscape of an existence.


	8. The Nobler the Blood, the Lesser the Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Southern mothERFUCKING DEMOCRATIC REPUBLICANS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by my phone and about 5 hrs to kill on the Stockholm Arlanda airport so I expect there to be a lot more typos than usually, sorry bout that! I'll run it through Word when I get to UK mid January.

Out of all the most awkward elevator rides in Alexander’s life this one definitely ranked in the top five, though his time in foster care did make for some strong contenders. Which was reassuring, in its own way.

Although perhaps ‘awkward' wasn’t the right word for the atmosphere, as much as ‘tense', or ‘charged'. There was a nervous tingle at the back of Alexander’s neck and he had to tuck his hands into his pockets to stop himself from playing with his ponytail. Jefferson and Madison stood behind him as they crawled towards the top floor at a snail’s pace. He could feel their eyes on that spot where the delicate, frail bones connected the spine to the skull.

He should have worn his hair down today.

Alex supressed a relieved exhale when the elevator finally reached the top floor of Monticello with a soft _ding._ Whether those two even had homes outside the club was beyond him. Not that he particularly cared - the last thing he wanted was for Jefferson to take him home.

They had skipped the club-floor and gone straight to the office, in lieu of Madison’s extended access key card, which was also a relief. Saved Alexander some paranoia about being spotted by Reynolds.

The three men made their way to the sofas, Madison and Jefferson seated opposite from Alexander who felt small on the sizeable white divan. The uncharacteristic silence of the Southerners kept him on edge even when he was out of the small, enclosed space of the elevator. The taunting, the usual banter would have at least distracted him from the fight or flight-reaction he was fighting deep down.

He knew what they were doing, of course. The self-assured arrogance was still there, but this time around it was left unspoken, hanging heavy in the air between them, trying to crush Alexander under its weight. They sat calmly with hands casually folded on their lap, like Alex would be crawling at their feet soon enough anyways.

They wanted him to forget Jefferson was the one who had approached him, this time around. Alex ground his teeth in irritation. They had no idea what he was capable of.

Surely it was also no accident the coffee table was the same one that still sometimes made an appearance in Alexander’s nightmares. He tried not to remember the sensation of the cool surface against his naked chest, the way the glass had misted as he’d panted against it. Further back, behind Jefferson's right shoulder, loomed a door which lead to a small room that had a wide arrangement of meticulously arranged whips, riding crops, rope, spreader bars… Alex didn’t allow his eyes to wander that way. Nor did he look for the hook in the ceiling.

“What does Reynolds know?” he asked. Whatever it was that he gave away by being the first one to cave in and break the silence, he wasn’t sure.

Jefferson seemed occupied with digging a speck of dirt from under his nail. “He seemed rather convinced some rival of his had recruited Mary to get rid of him,” he said nonchalantly.

“Maria,” Alex corrected dryly. Of course Reynolds couldn’t even imagine Maria (or any human) would have the courage and ability to attack him alone. It would have been reassuring Reynolds was so far off if there wasn’t such a clear path leading from Burr to Alex. Reynolds and Burr weren’t enemies by any means, but not exactly friendly either (which appeared to be Burr’s relationship to most vampires). Reynolds would remember Alex and Maria were friends eventually, see he was no longer with Burr, and put two and two together. It was only a matter of when.

Alex processed all this with his mouth drawn into a tight line while the two Virginians watched his face with something approaching amused curiosity.

Alex raised an eyebrow at them. “If you’re trying to work out whether Burr had something to do with it, he didn’t,” he said and rolled his shoulders back. “Reynolds was an arrogant prick and got his ass handed to him by a human as a direct consequence. Karma's a bitch like that, huh?”

Jefferson wetted his lips and smiled. Frustration, yet again, welled up in Hamilton’s chest. This dance was getting them nowhere - they could sit here all night exchanging loaded statements neither side believed anyway and come out none the wiser. Well, Alex would most likely be the one to learn less, he could admit to himself as much.

He leaned back against the cushions and crossed his legs, going for a nonchalant and somewhat defiant ambience. “For once, do you think you could tell me in explicit terms what you’re hoping to get out of this?” he asked.

“Why, that is hardly in the spirit of equitable negotiation,” said Madison in that overly innocuous tone of his. Like Alex had a plethora of choice in the situation.

 _You don’t negotiate, you just take._ Alex thought it but didn’t say it, and yet it must have shown on his face since Jefferson had that wolfish grin on his again.

“Look,” he sighed. “I know you don’t hold my intelligence in particularly high regard, but if you think I’m agreeing to another ‘simple quid pro quo’-"

“Aw, sweetheart, we find you exceptionally smart,” Jefferson said like he was talking about a chimpanzee that had managed to learn sign language. He gave Alexander another skin-crawlingly deliberate once-over. “And may I remind you, it was you who failed to recall why you came to us in the first place last time around?”

Heat flooded Alexander’s cheeks and this time he couldn’t help glancing towards the ceiling where the hook hung, so plain and small he’d missed it the first time around. How that thing had even supported his full weight was a mystery.

“It’s a natural human response to-" Alex cut himself short. He was letting them avoid the question and distract him, as per usual. He was better than this.

Alex shook his head and stood up. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Look,” Jefferson said with a stretchy tone, “name a country and your friend will have a visa and transportation and guaranteed safety and comfort, as long as you hold your end of the deal.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex sneered. “And you’ll, what, pinkie promise that she’s really safe? Sounds fair.”

Madison tilted his head to the side. “Would you prefer she live here instead?”

With the vampires sitting down and Alexander standing he was able to look down at them, for once. It was a false sense of control of course, but it made him feel bolder than he normally would have. Which was needed to pull this off.

“The problem needs to be ripped from the roots,” he said, crossed his arms and raised his chin. “Reynolds needs to go.”

They stared at each other in strained silence. Madison’s expression was as unreadable as ever, but Jefferson looked up at Alex with something akin to disbelieving glee.

“What exactly do you expect us to do about him?” Madison asked, his voice leveled like they were discussing the weather.

Alex shrugged. “I want him dead or in vampire prison or whatever, I know you must have one since you have a juridical system.” He’d thought this through; this was the only way Maria would have any chance of living a normal life away from vampires, and her safety wouldn’t hang on Alexander’s ability to keep Jefferson and Madison entertained. If he could pull this off, there would be a potential out for him too, in the end.

Not that this endeavor was going to be nice, or easy.

Alex stepped on the coffee table, slow and casual, planted his feet next to Jefferson’s thighs and slowly straddled him, maintaining eye contact.

“I don’t mind getting on my knees, you know,” he murmured. Jefferson’s hands twitched but remained resting at his sides. “Finding someone worth kneeling for, now that’s the hard part.”

Alex knew that provoking and teasing Madison around to doing something risky would be a hopeless endeavor - that was what made the two of them such a dangerous combination. But he knew Jefferson wanted him, had wanted him since he first saw him, and there was leverage in that. It just had to be enough to counteract Madison’s influence. Alex swallowed and ignored the cold, calculating gaze of the other Virginian burning into his temple and kept his eyes on Jefferson’s.

He leaned in and lightly grazed his nose against Jefferson’s stubbly jawline, knowing his own scent was more prominent in close proximity. “If you want to have me, you’ll have to do something for me that Burr couldn’t,” he said softly. Jefferson’s hand came up to Alexander’s cheek and he pulled back. “Until then, you’re not getting shit from me,” he said, holding Jefferson’s gaze.

Jefferson’s lips stretched into a slow smile and he leaned back against the sofa cushions. “Is that so?” From the periphery of his vision Alex could see the corners of Madison’s lips quirk up. Dread pooled at the pit of his stomach; why were they looking at him like there was a crucial puzzle piece he had missed?

Alex opened his mouth, some snarky retort already forming on his tongue, when there was the sound of a handle turning and a door swinging open. He twisted towards the source of the sound and for a moment everything went still and frozen.

Burr stopped on his tracks at the door frame as well, one hand on the handle and the other one holding a stack of papers against his chest. “Alexander,” he said like they were exes that ran into each other in a grocery store unexpectedly. Alex would have laughed had it not been for the sheer terror filling his lungs.

How could Burr _be there?_ How was he walking around casually, entering offices, wearing a crisply tailored black suit and a deep red tie like he, like he-

“Ah, the audit forms we asked for, yes?” Madison’s voice faintly carried over the blast of white noise filling Alexander’s head. “Just leave them on the desk, those can be filed later.”

Burr’s lips pressed into a tight line. He cast his eyes down for a moment, nodded to himself and started towards the desk. Alex twisted back around and fixed his eyes on the white wooden frame of a painting on the wall. The stupid abstract blob-one he’d always hated.

There were silent footsteps, the sound of a stack of papers being laid on the table. Alex knew how it was without even looking, had studied the measured and delicate way Burr made his way around the world so closely he could see with his mind’s eye how he meticulously lined up the edges of the papers to make the stack neat. And then turned to look at them, maybe folding his arms behind his back. Alex resisted the urge to steal a glace his way, to see if Burr was looking at his face or not.

“Thank you,” Madison said. Jefferson’s fingers were lazily carding through Alexander’s ponytail again. There was silence, Burr wasn’t moving. “That would be all, Mister Burr,” Madison said pointedly.

A few seconds of silence and footsteps towards the door. Burr closed it on his way out.

“Aww, poor thing,” Jefferson’s thumb swept over Alexander’s cheekbone as though he was crying. “You really had no idea, huh?”

“What is he..?” Alex managed to force the words out, his voice thick.

“We figured we could use an in-house financial consultant, and he applied,” Jefferson shrugged and twirled a bit of baby hair at the nape of Alexander’s neck around his index finger. “The guy may have the personality of a pile of sawdust but he’s pretty good at his job, I’ll give him that.”

Jefferson’s hands came up to carefully tuck stray strands of hair behind Alexander’s ears. “Tell you what, if you’re good we can make you forget all about that mediocrity again.” His hands cupped Alexander’s face in a way that imitated affection in a gut churningly uncomfortable way. “Or, if you’d like, you could play with him every once in a while when we’re busy. You are insatiable after all, Alexander.”

“You can even go to college if you really want to,” Madison said. Alex had almost forgotten he was still in the room.

Jefferson chuckled and traced Alexander's cheekbones with his thumbs. “Yeah, it’s cute when you have opinions.”

Alexander finally regained enough control over his limbs to grab Jefferson’s wrists and pin them against the cushions. His eyes snapped down to Jefferson’s, registered the way the skin crinkled around them when he smiled up at Alex arrogantly. Always smiling, always driving him into a corner and corrupting everything he had. _Untouchable._

Alex leaned in and snarled against his lips, “Reynolds needs to go,” and scrambled off his lap, somehow made it out of the room without tripping. It was all a blur, but somehow he made it.

He found himself in some staff stairway leading to the back door, gripping the railing with white knuckles and panting like he’d just ran a marathon.

A cool, steady hand rubbed soothing circles on his back. For a brief moment Alex responded to it out of pure habit; his shoulders fell and his breathing slowed down.

“Hey, you did so good out there,” Burr murmured.

Jefferson’s _fucking accountant_ Burr. Alex flinched and the hand withdrew immediately. He stumbled a few steps down, grabbed the railing harder and forcefully straightened his back. He fixed his eyes on the deep wine red of Burr’s tie. He could tell his mouth was drawn into a tight line again, but otherwise he couldn’t see his expression.

“Don’t touch me,” Alex said dumbly.

Burr adjusted his suit jacket. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I won’t do it again.” His tone was the one he’d use when he was on the phone with an angry client, the kind that was intended to be so amicable and civil it would rub off on the other party.

Betrayal sloshed in Alexander’s stomach, bitter and cold and acidic. He might have been sick had he eaten something substantial lately. It wasn’t as though he’d thought of Burr as being on his team or anything, but he’d never imagined for a second Burr would turn around and do this, team up with those who wanted to ruin him, who had already-

But then again, if anyone knew how to bet for the winning team it was Burr. If he still wanted access to Alex and his blood, Alex thought wildly, wouldn’t this be an ingenious way to do it? To have him as Jefferson and Madison’s sloppy seconds once they were done with him?

Alex finally properly looked at Burr, standing on the top of the staircase looking down at him like he didn’t quite know whether to advance or to retreat.

God, had he gotten any better at all at knowing what went on in that head than on that day Burr had first bought him a drink and watched him go on and on about something trivial with a look of polite curiosity on his face? Alexander felt the childish urge to scream and curse and tear those answers out of his throat, to at least get a reaction out of him. But he stayed quiet and still and stared up at Burr, who was looking down at him with a slight crease between his brows.

“Alexander,” Burr said his name again and Alex flinched. “I know it must be difficult for you to see my reasoning now, but I must implore you to have patience, and trust.”

Some small, hopeful part of Alexander latched onto those words even as betrayal stung deep in his chest. He couldn’t help but think of the way Burr had looked down at him on his bedroom floor, eyes gentle and his thumb stroking the corner of his mouth like a chaste kiss.

Maybe there was some reasoning behind Burr’s sudden change of camp he wasn’t seeing. Maybe if they could talk someplace more secure-

“It’s not safe for you to go back at night, you might be spotted and lead Reynolds straight to Maria,” Burr said. His tone lost that touch of warmth it had been laced with only a moment ago. “You may stay in the hotel. I took the liberty of arranging you a mid-tier room with one bedroom since I suspected you might feel uncomfortable with an elaborate suite.”

Right, because Alexander was as good as a kept human now, and Burr was the facilitator of the arrangement. Alex had taken a half-step up towards Burr, but now his foot fell back down and whatever boor had inched open between them for a fracture of a moment slammed back shut with a sense of finality.

Alex felt his gaze go cold. “Thanks, but I think it’s not really your place to ‘take liberties’ now, as a glorified accountant,” he deadpanned and advanced a step.

Burr stood his ground and merely raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer a more luxurious room, then?”

“I don’t know,” Alexander’s hands shot up and fell to his sides. “I don’t know what it’s like to be with someone who can actually take care of me,” he took another step up and glared at Burr, almost chest to chest with him. “But don’t think you’ll ever get to _implore_ me to be anything again.”

For a moment Burr’s expression darkened. His mouth opened and snapped closed again and he shut his eye, inhaling deeply. “This isn’t helpful.” He opened his eyes looked at Alex, his expression unreadable again. “Feel free to forget whatever you think you knew about me, Alexander. Things are going to change a great deal.”

Burr turned on his heels and started towards the end of the corridor. “I’ll send a member of staff to fetch you once your room is ready. You ought to stay away from common areas until then,” he called over his shoulder.

Alex was left standing dumbly on the first step of the staircase, vacantly staring at the spot where the stiff line of Burr’s shoulders had disappeared behind a corner. He inhaled shakily and dropped to sit on the step with his head in his hands. The tense exchange had left him more confused than even, he didn’t know what to _think._

Alex wasn’t stupid - the Southerners had planned to crush his fighting spirit with the revelation that Burr was on their side, and half succeeded. The thought of going against all three made his stomach twist in hopelessness.

But then he thought of Maria, bloody and bruised on their couch and stroking his hair patiently in Lafayette’s bed. This wasn’t a matter of can. As much as he would have liked to believe Burr had some ingenious plan tucked up his sleeve, the only thing he could count on was himself. If he needed to take on all three of them, he would.

Alex pressed his forehead to his knees and ran his fingers through his knotted up hair. “Fucking hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanna do a quick poll. Do you guys want to see more smut before the end of this story, and if yes, which pairing? I can’t guarantee it’ll happen since it’ll have to make sense (I have the general plot points laid out but I’m still working out the details), but I’d like to scope out what you guys wanna see!


	9. Experience Costs Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex tries to adjust to his new reality, and the vampires get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hilariously enough the poll ended up being a total draw across three options so I just followed my heart.
> 
> Content warning for sexual assault-y vibes and uhhh off-screen decapitation.

It had been three days. Well, three nights. Days no longer mattered, not in this existence he had signed up for indefinitely.

Alex groaned into his pillow, just wishing his brain would _stop._ The pristine egg shell white fabric still retained that sterile hotel detergent scent thanks to the magical, invisible hands that appeared to change the pillowcase whenever he found the courage to leave the room, even if briefly.

He rarely did. Daytime was safe but useless; only the human staff stalked the hallways, their steps light as though they were scared of rousing the undead from their rest. At nighttime he was the one who walked on his tiptoes, constantly glancing over his shoulder. And for nothing, too; Jefferson, Madison and Burr were all gone. Indisposed. Away for business.

It was like some warped parody of that fairytale cliché where the princess awaits in her tower while the gallant knights are off to slay the beast. Alex snorted into the pillow. His suite was close to the top floor too, appropriately. All he needed was a cute animal sidekick. Maybe Lafayette could smuggle Greg into the hotel.

Lafayette, who was doing his best to keep Maria from losing it by assigning her household chores and introducing her to new addictive Netflix shows. The sentiment was lovely but it wasn’t doing much; Alex spoke on the phone with her twice a day but honestly, in her shoes he would be convinced that he was being held hostage too. Any day now she would snap and- Alex didn’t think about what would happen when she would snap.

He threw the blankets off the bed and peeled his sweaty torso off the mattress. Surely whoever was in charge of changing his bedding was starting to get annoyed at his unwillingness to get up. He checked the time on his phone (7:57 pm) and hauled himself into the bathroom.

Burr had been right, of course; Alex resented the fancy suite. Granted, if this were his first work trip as a highly sought-after defense lawyer, he would probably be jumping on the bed and billing the company for room service, and then eating it in the jacuzzi. As it were, even using the little toiletries on the bathroom counter left him feeling gross and smelling like Jefferson’s money. Knowing that it was all building up to a debt he would have to pay back later on in some degrading way or another, with interest no doubt, kind of took the joy out of the luxury.

Alex rolled his eyes at his own hypocrisy as he picked up a toothbrush and started to battle the taste of day-long grogginess and death in his mouth. As if he hadn’t spent over two years quite happy doing this exact same thing with Burr. All this time to think and think and overthink and it still broke his brain, how he had hated the notion of being Burr’s possession, and simultaneously resented him for not just taking control and claiming Alex for himself. If John was here and they hadn’t gradually drifted apart after the breakup, he would probably roll his eyes and say something dry yet insightful about Alexander’s inability to separate what he needs and what he wants. _‘Being wanted and being controlled are two different things, dumbass.’_ Something like that.

Alex spat into the sink and made the mistake of looking into the mirror. Dead eyes, limp hair, perpetual dark circles under his eyes, the usual deal. Some old scarring on the neck, really just lighter and denser patches of skin at this point. Alexander’s fingers gripped the counter as the anxiety smacked into him like an oncoming train; _this_ was what the vampires needed to want badly enough to kill for it. Maybe if he could smell himself the way they could, maybe then it would make sense and he wouldn’t have to be so god damn afraid they would turn around and decide he wasn’t worth the effort one of these days. Fuck. Alex closed his eyes and drew in long, shaky breaths until the world stopped swaying.

The bedding had, yet again, been changed once he emerged from the shower. Additionally, there was a pile of neatly folded clothes and a nondescript black bag on the bed.

Alex picked up the little note on top of the clothing pile gingerly with his forefinger and thumb, and scanned the swirly, elaborate script apprehensively.

_Dearest Alexander,_

_Please join us in the office at your earliest convenience,_

_Faithfully Yours,_

_T. Jefferson_

His stomach did a lazy backflip or ten as he dropped the note onto the bed and slowly unfolded the clothes. Black leather pants which he already knew he would have to battle his way into, and a fluffy no doubt authentic fur coat. Even socks and shoes were included, but no sign of boxers or, well, a shirt. Alex deducted, with a flush creeping up his face, that those were apparently not needed for the outfit.

He peeked into the bag with even more apprehension and frowned at the jumble of thin, golden chains he found there. After a few minutes of clumsy untangling and cursing under his breath, he identified it as a body harness. It was accompanied by an assortment of gold bangles (really expensive-looking ones but still, who still wears bangles?) and, lo and behold, Alexander’s own transparent heart choker. He’d completely forgotten he’d left it behind, all that time ago.

 _So that’s how it is._ Alex inhaled deeply, twice. He then threw himself onto the bed, on his back, and started to wrestle the pants on.

A considerable time later he stood in front of the wall-length mirror in the suite’s walk-in closet, chewing his lip contemplatively. The delicate gold chains crisscrossing across his chest made him feel slightly less vulnerable, to a degree, than he would have felt just going shirtless, but also more on display. Which was probably the point. The chunky fur coat made him look (and feel) every bit of the stereotypical high-class prostitute. Probably also the point.

Perhaps it was the aftermath of his earlier bout of self-doubt, but in some shameful way he was glad to have the clothes, rather than having to face them in the hoodie he’d been wearing for three days now. He looked good. He could play this part.

Alex left the choker on the bedside table, however; he had no obligation to wear something that hadn’t been bought for him. And it didn’t go with the outfit anyways.

The gold bangles clinked against each other like a pair of shackles as Alex walked the hallways. He received some long, appreciative stares on the way. He kept his head high and soldiered on as though he didn’t even notice, secretly grateful he’d been put into somewhat sensible shoes rather than high heels. That wouldn’t have been pretty.

Alex tentatively scanned his keycard at a staff-marked door and was allowed into the staircase that would let him into the office without having to walk through the club. He paused to stand on the highest floor until his breathing evened out, put on an unimpressed bitchface (which he felt should be considered a standard part of the outfit), and stepped inside.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that Burr was nowhere to be seen. Madison stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back, and Jefferson leaned casually against the backrest of a sofa with a flute of champagne in his hand.

Alex showed his hands into the pockets of his coat and pretended to be interested in a nearby lampshade as Jefferson’s evaluative gaze licked up his form. It was always _like this,_ he could feel untouchable and beautiful one moment, and yet just one look from the vampires reminded him of what they could reduce him into.

“Enjoying your stay, I hope,” Jefferson drawled, the smile audible in his voice.

“Immensely,” Alex said dryly. He strode to stand a step away from the Virginian and tried to look immovable. “Where’s Reynolds?”

Jefferson shrugged. “Missing.”

“Then I think we’re done here.” Alex took half a step back, but merely the movement of Jefferson straightening up made him halt.

Jefferson took a step forward and towered over Alex, an amicable smile on his face. “We are going to draw him out of hiding.”

Alex swallowed, his eyes darting down to the dip between Jefferson’s collar bones (a rare occasion, for him not to wear a tie or a cravat of any kind) and back up to his eyes. “’We, as in?” he asked slowly.

“It’s about time you start pulling your weight, Alexander,” Madison turned away from the window and started languidly towards them. “A little bit selfish expecting us to do all the work, don’t you think?”

Alex wanted to point out that them doing all the work was literally the deal, but he was caught up in the realization that they wanted to take him with them to the club, parade him around the way humans always were in that place. He should have known, from the outfit. Of course it wasn’t just for them.

Was it a necessary mean to get the word out, to tempt Reynolds into Monticello, or was it just a way for the Southerners to degrade Alex, to get something out of him yet again without giving anything in return?

Before he could reach a conclusion Jefferson grabbed an extra flute of champagne from a nearby desk, dropped it into Alexander’s hand, looped two fingers into one of his bangles and yanked him towards the door.

“Come now, pet, the people are waiting.”

 

* * *

 

Madison’s hand wasn’t moving. Alex had been sat there between them, God knew for how long, his upper torso pressed against Jefferson’s broad chest and his legs sprawled across Madison’s lap. Jefferson’s arm was casually wrapped around him, and Madison’s hand rested on his thigh. Jefferson’s presence was an assortment of relaxed, idle movements; his chest would shake with laughter, his fingertips would absently find their way into Alexander’s hair or play with the gold chains laid over his chest. Even when his palm would move to stroke Alexander’s lower stomach, the movement had an absentminded, yet indulgent feel to it.

Madison was still and calm as a pond on a windless day. His heavy, broad palm felt more like it had ended up on Alexander’s thigh by accident, like he might as well be a fucking hand rest. Even a stick shift was handled with more purpose and interest. After God-knows-how-much time Alex found himself thinking that if he shifted, as if by accident, in a way that would make the hand brush against his innermost thigh, Madison might have to actually acknowledge him.

That’s how he knew they had won.

He’d thought he could have learned something useful by listening in on the conversations the Southerners were having with their groupies, but it was all people he’d never heard of, incidents he hadn’t been to witness, art collectibles he didn’t care about. Hell, half of it was in languages he didn’t speak, or even recognize. The rest of the humans in the group all either had a spaced-out expression on their faces or, worse, a perpetual expression of sheer adoration and neediness towards the vampire whose lap they were warming. Alex shivered and Jefferson’s blunt nails dragged against his side slightly.

The only interesting bit had been when a man with a ‘grey fox’-kind of a look about him had commented on Alexander’s scent to Jefferson in French. Alex had kept his face carefully oblivious as he’d struggled to make sense of the obscure accent, and Jefferson had said it was the best he’d had since the fall of... some word he didn’t recognize. The man had made an offer to be allowed a tasting session (the amount would have made Alex choke on his champagne had he not downed it within the first ten minutes), to which Jefferson had replied that, unlike some, he wasn’t stupid enough to rent out something he knew he wouldn’t be getting back.

So that was fun.

A waitress took Alexander’s empty glass and handed him a new one. This one had a strawberry at the bottom.

Alex stared at it contemplatively, suddenly very aware of how hungry he was.

His gut made a noise and suddenly he was contemplating the benefits of a swift, merciful death.

Jefferson’s fingers stilled at his abdomen. “Haven’t you been eating?”

No, he hadn’t been fucking eating. He couldn’t leave the hotel to buy food, and anything ordered with room service on Jefferson’s bill only would have made him nauseous. He’d been snacking off the mini bar (which technically wasn’t any better, but felt more justifiable), and the steady diet of nuts and pretzels had kept the worst of the hunger at bay but also, now that he thought about it, had possibly contributed to the hazy state of consciousness he was experiencing now.

Alex sat up sharply, suddenly intent on bailing before the situation got any worse. It was a mistake; the swift movement made him so dizzy his eyesight went black for a few seconds.

Jefferson laughed, placed his palm onto Alexander’s shoulder and showed him back down so that he was lying on his lap. A good portion of the champagne sloshed onto the sofa cushions and Madison clicked his tongue.

Jefferson fished the strawberry out of the glass and stuffed it into Alexander’s mouth along with his champagne-drenched fingers. “Didn’t realize we would have to assign you some kind of a babysitter to make sure you carry out the most basic functions of staying alive,” he said as the strawberry turned into mush in Alexander’s mouth, his fingers pressing down on his tongue. “Did Burr always have to mother over you, make sure you eat? Poor guy.”

“How many times a week do they even eat?” said someone with a puzzled tone.

“I remember having a meal every Sunday,” someone replied.

Alex bit down and suddenly Jefferson’s fingers were in his hair, twisting sharply. He gasped in pain.

Jefferson’s eyes flashed down at him in mock anger that did a bad job of masking the glee underneath. “See this one isn’t all bark,” he said and his hand was still in Alexander’s hair and the other one pulled on the harness so that the little chains dug into his skin and chafed painfully. “You would make such a nice, good little pet but you just can’t get enough of being disciplined, can’t you, Alexander?”

“That’s enough.”

The chatter around the table died down and the atmosphere changed so quickly and drastically Burr might have as well stabbed Jefferson between the ribs.

There was still a fist in Hamilton’s hair so he couldn’t turn his head, but he could still make out Burr’s silhouette from the periphery of his vision, standing straight and tall at the edge of the group.

“What was that?” Jefferson said slowly, sounding every bit like someone who was not used to being challenged and didn’t quite know whether to be angered or excited by it.

“I said, that’s enough,” Burr replied calmly. “I’m very thankful you’ve looked after Alexander all this time, but I’ll be taking him home now.”

“Huh,” Jefferson said. “How do you figure?”

Something thumped softly onto the coffee table and two of the humans screeched in pure terror, scrambling to get away. The vampires of the group collectively drew in a shocked gasp and Jefferson’s hold finally loosened enough that Alex could twist his head and-

The image of James Reynolds’ severed head was now irreversibly burnt into his consciousness. It was still thankfully in a plastic bag so he didn’t get a clear look at the bit where the neck- Still. It looked like a quick, clean cut, at least. The expression on Reynolds’ face and the dough-like quality of his skin… He would have nightmares. Suddenly it seemed to be for the best he hadn’t eaten for a while.

“I believe the agreement was that Alexander stays with whoever eliminates Reynolds,” Burr said matter-of-factly.

Jefferson’s arm wrapped around Alexander’s waist, his fingers closing around his bicep. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. That deal was stricken between us and him specifically.”

“And I must point out,” Madison pitched in, “that you _are_ under our employment, and therefore the deal being fulfilled is attributed to us.”

They were actually debating the technicalities of who was entitled to Alexander’s ass while there was a _fucking severed head right fucking there._ All Alex could do was stare are Burr’s coat lapels in mute disbelief.

Burr clasped his hands behind his back as though he hadn’t just brought a _severed fucking head_ into a public establishment and dropped it onto a coffee table like some kind of a Viking-era war prize. “See, the issue is that I, personally, did not carry this out. I am merely a messenger.”

Jefferson snorted. “Right, and who might this mysterious knight in a shining armor be, then?”

Burr smiled. “George Washington.”

The room went dead silent. Jefferson’s grip around Alexander’s arm went extremely stiff.

“So if you have any, ah, grievances, about giving the General due compensation for his efforts,” Burr said, still smiling pleasantly and slowly walking towards them, “feel free to take them up with him.”

Jefferson held onto Alex hard enough to leave bruises. They would rip him into pieces like a bunch of four-year-olds who wanted the same toy.

Madison raised his hand from Alexander’s thigh and set it onto Jefferson’s wrist.

“Thomas,” he said.

And Jefferson’s grip loosened enough to allow Burr to pull Alexander off his lap.

The part where they got from there to the street in front of Aide-de-Champ was kind of a blur. The only sensory information Alex retained was Aaron’s steadying grip on his elbow and at the small of his back as he guided them out of the building. It felt like from there on he just kind of picked a direction and started down the street in a pace only slightly short of jogging.

“Burr-“

“Just keep walking,” Aaron said with a low, almost absentminded voice.

About six blocks away Burr finally slowed his pace, inhaled deeply and raised his face towards the sky.

“So uh, are you taking me to my new master now or..?” Alex said.

“Hm? Oh, no,” Aaron had the good sense not to chuckle at least. “No, I called in a favor, for my testimony at the trial.” He suddenly let go of Alex and started to walk in a brisk pace again.

“You do technically belong to George Washington now,” he called over his shoulder. “Sorry about that. But he doesn’t need any more humans, so you don’t need to ever meet him.”

Alex thought of the glazed over look in Reynolds’ lifeless eyes. “I think I’m okay with that.” He had a distinct feeling he would break down laughing or crying at some point later, once the adrenaline would wear off.

He spread his hands. “So it’s… over? That’s it?”

He nearly ran into Burr, who stopped on his tracks. He looked back at Alex and smiled slightly.

“Yes.”

Alex stuffed his hands into the pockets of his fur coat. “Cool.”

Distant sirens, rattling trains and barking dogs filled the silence that fell between them.

“Alex can I… can I buy you a drink?” Aaron said. He sounded almost… bashful.

Alex swayed on his feet. “Actually, I should probably go to Maria, to tell her what’s up. She must be freaking out right now.”

Aaron nodded slowly. “Understandable.”

Alex chewed on his lip. “How about I buy _you_ a drink for once? Monday, the usual place?”

Aaron smiled. “I would like that.” His eyes flickered down and he seemed to only then really register what Alex was wearing. “Can I give you, uh, do you need a… shirt?”

Alex snorted and shook his head, wrapping the fur coat tighter around his shivering frame. “Nah, as the saying goes, a hoe never gets cold.”

He laughed at Burr’s perplexed frown and turned on his heels.

“See you on Monday!”

 

* * *

 

Well, he didn’t meet Burr on Monday.

“You know you’re under no obligation to do this, right?” Maria said for like the third time, her hands resting on the steering wheel.

Alex shrugged and hugged his knee. “I know. But like, he did get me out of there.”

“And whose fault was it that you ended up there to begin with?”

“I can count at least three people off the top of my head,” Alex said and glanced out of the window at the scrappy parking lot of the bar, barely illuminated by a few street lights. “Look, I want to hear him out. I do.”

“Just, don’t get-” Maria trailed off and gave Alex a withering look. “I’ll be right here waiting, ready to start the engine and make a badass escape with you, alright?”

“You really don’t need to,” Alex protested.

“I know, but I will.”

Alex sighed, shot her a smile and pulled on the door handle.

Aaron smiled at him at the door as if it hadn’t been almost two months since they last saw.

“Alexander.”

Alex ducked his head and mumbled a thanks as Aaron held the door open for him. The other man ordered the same pint of beer as Alex did instead of his usual glass of red, probably to save his wallet, and Alex dug out the bills without a comment.

Once they were sat at a table slightly away from the other customers, Aaron traced idle patterns on the surface of the glass and smiled at Alex again. That subtle smile that seemed to always sit so comfortably on Burr’s face. “You look well.”

Alex snorted. “Glad to hear, I was afraid the soul-sucking quality of my new awesome retail job was showing on my face.”

Aaron’s smile turned into a lopsided one. “I assure you it doesn’t.”

“I did get an internship at this one great law firm,” Alex couldn’t resist telling him. “I’m not getting my hopes up too much, but they do sometimes fund scholarships for college.”

Burr looked genuinely delighted. “That’s wonderful, Alexander! My congratulations.” There was a familiar, warm twinge inside Alexander. That bit at his core that still instinctually responded to Burr’s praise.

He cleared his throat. “So do you think we could, like, have a real, honest conversation for once? Just put it all out there?”

Burr leaned back, his eyes fixed onto his untouched beer now. “Yes, I would like if we did. I do owe you an explanation.”

Alex steeled himself. “Yes, you do.”

“But first,” Burr side-eyed Alexander. “I’d like to know what your endgame was with that deal, if you don’t mind.”

Alex smiled faintly and shrugged with one shoulder. “Needed to get them to eliminate Reynolds. That way I could bail later down the line without endangering Maria.”

“And do you think you could have done it? Left them on your own?” Burr asked quietly.

The unwanted memory of Jefferson’s hand stroking Hamilton’s side possessively while Madison’s impassive palm rested on his thigh pushed its way into Alexander’s consciousness.

“I don’t know.”

For a moment they sat in a silence that was just on this side of uncomfortable.

“So. Your new career path,” Alex prompted.

Burr nodded to his beer. “I… needed to put myself into a position where I would know when Reynolds made a move. And Jefferson, and Madison. And, I’ll have to point out, the plan worked perfectly. As soon as I heard about your agreement with them, I knew what I needed to ask from Washington.”

“Why?” Alex stared at a dartboard on the opposite wall. He could feel Burr’s eyes on him for a brief moment.

“I can’t expect you to trust my motivations at this point, after all that I’ve done to you,” Burr said quietly.

“I don’t-“

“No, listen Alex,” Burr set his hand over Alexander’s and withdrew it before the contact even registered properly. _“I_ don’t even trust my motivations with you half of the time. Something about you just makes me… I saw that craving you have, for affection and recognition, and I was weak and unsure, like always, and I used it to my advantage, to make you feel like you needed to earn everything I gave you, as if you don’t already deserve... well, the world.”

“Aaron,” Alexander’s fingers hovered nearby Burr’s rigid shoulder, unsure.

“And now any affection you may feel towards me is tainted by my manipulation. I-“ Aaron rubbed his palms over his head in a frustrated motion. “I guess what I’m trying to say here is that I didn’t understand my own feelings and wants, and ended up mistreating you in the process of figuring it out. The reasoning behind it doesn’t excuse it and… I am so very sorry.”

Alex wrapped his hands around the cold stem of his pint and chewed on his lip contemplatively.

“I… didn’t expect you to say, well, any of that, so I’ll need some time to process it. But I appreciate it. And, in all fairness, it’s not like I was being very clear about what I wanted from you, either. Honestly, I didn’t know what it really was, either.” He smiled humorlessly. “I guess we won’t be winning any prizes in introspection and communication.”

Aaron hummed. “I suppose not.”

Alex sighed. “So, no chance you could ask our man Washington to behead Jefferson and Madison as well?”

Aaron actually honest to god snorted. “Regretfully, no. They’re actually allies, they go way back.”

Alex stared at Aaron with wide eyes. “You’re kidding.”

Aaron shook his head. “The pecking order is very clear, as you saw. Washington isn’t afraid of going against them whatsoever, but it is a mutually beneficial partnership. In other words, the Virginians are here to stay.”

Alex sighed. “Well that sucks.”

“In a world like this I suppose we ought to be glad Reynolds at least got his.”

Alex finally took a long swig of his beer. “I won’t.”

Another silence, this time of the charged variety. Tension suddenly snapped in between them, the air nearly crackling with… something. Alex knew he should ignore it, just get up and walk away now before he’d get sucked into this horrible, all-consuming pull between them again. Before it would end up burning him inside out again.

He wouldn’t be winning any prizes in self-preservation, either.

Aaron just looked at his questioningly as Alex scooted his chair closer to his side of the table.

“Hey, Aaron,” Alex leaned over the table and slowly brushed his fingertips over the side of Burr’s face. The other man sat still as a statue, those near-black eyes trained on Alexander’s in a way that would have pinned him down like a butterfly just some months ago. “Can we do this again next week?”

Aaron just looked at him for a moment, closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and turned his face so that his lips brushed, feather light, against Alexander’s fingertips. “I’d like that.”

Alex shrugged his coat on and picked up his wallet. Both of their beers had barely been touched. “You’re paying, though.”

Maria was still parked next to the bar, as advertised, snacking on one of the poptarts she always had in the glove compartment. She eyed Alexander’s face apprehensively as he approached the car, but seemed satisfied with his thumbs up and lack of tear trails.

Truthfully, Alex didn’t know if he would make it there next Monday, either. It might take him more than that to feel ready to be so close to someone who evoked such a tricky mixture of feelings and memories. Two weeks. A month. Two months. Either way it would be a long, arduous process, and who was to say Alex would even want the man by the end of it.

 _Well, good thing Burr is literally an immortal being,_ Alex reminded himself.

He could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to be obnoxious but I just wanna say thank you so incredibly much for every kudos, subscription, comment and art (looking at you Jaden), this has easily been my best fic-writing experience all thanks to you guys! Also shout out to Yahoo answers for having some great info about the storage and longevity of blood. My google search history makes me look like a serial killer now.
> 
> Come scream at/with me on [Tumblr](https://nightshiftblues.tumblr.com/) if you feel inclined to!


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